


Ashens

by alandoflimbo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier
Genre: Angry Sex, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Heavy Angst, I’ll add more as more come up, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Strong Language, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Undercover prostitution in one chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alandoflimbo/pseuds/alandoflimbo
Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 409
Kudos: 258





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again...Link to Trailer and Soundtrack is in "endnote". Also, the blip did happen, but 5 years did not pass, Bucky wasn't snapped and Steve did not get old. I know. Wow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has torn you apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for clarification purposes...the blurb, in the beginning, takes place in the Present. The "Prologue" is just back story on Bucky. You can skip to Chapter 1 if you'd like (just simply scroll past Prologue). Reading the Prologue is not essential, but might be helpful to better understand Bucky's emotions at the beginning of the story. Optional. This book is split into 3 Parts: 
> 
> "The Society", "The Capitol", and "The Agreement". 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

\+ + +

In a moment of weakness, you can’t help but try to find your building on the horizon made up of glass.

You try to find the room that had been yours for the last six months; the home where he had belittled you countless of times.

But also where he'd touched your skin so softly, leaving a trail of fire and heat.

The bedroom where you had given your heart to him in your bed,

and where you thought he had given you his.

**\+ + +**

Prologue

It was 1938 in Brooklyn, when his father died. He was just twenty-one years old. He became an orphan.

Months earlier, his sister was taken away from him while he was training. He was at the same camp his father had trained at in Camp Lehigh in New Jersey. The day his father died was also the same day he had met _her._

Her name was **Daisy.**

He was just outside the _Cotton Club_ when she emerged from inside the _Dusenberg J_. She had light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was the woman Bucky had been waiting for his entire life.

Her gown was silver. It hugged her body at just perfect places, showing off her curves gracefully. They danced that night to _The Way You Look Tonight,_ and right after, she sipped a dirty Martini.

His hand settled for the small of her back as they danced. Later that night, they ended up in Dumbo in his cheap apartment, where they ended up sharing their first kiss.

 _Ella Fitzgerald’s_ voice was playing on his record player in the background as he laid her on his bed. It was also the same night she realized he was a soldier, and that he would soon leave her behind.

They fell in love too fast, too strongly. They had only known each other for a few weeks when he proposed to her. He wished he had known it would be the last time he would see her. 

He wouldn’t know what he lost until seventy-six years later.

* * *

#  **PART 1**

#  **"THE SOCIETY"**

#  **1**

Year: 2021

You needed to escape The Capitol.

The tears are heavy in your throat, and it burns from the screaming and crying that you had done earlier in your room.

Your right hand opens and tightens into a fist repeatedly. Your nails cave into the skin of your palm, leaving crescent shaped indents.

You didn’t think it would get this bad. Not your love for him, nor his boundless _hate_ towards you. 

Every dagger, as a word he threw your way, pained you. It hurt the same way it did when you first met him, when you first told him you loved him, and when you first fucked.

He had continued to stare at you with those cold eyes, and with that expression that he always saved just for you. You filled his soul with hate and disgust.

How could you have hoped for a change?

He had showed you nothing but antipathy, yet you couldn’t pull away. You allowed yourself to believe your self-doubt, thinking he was getting better, and that he was _finally changing_. And _you_ were falling for pity; _he had been through so much, he just needed to heal_ , you told yourself. 

You had continued to let him hurt you with his words, and you let him have his way with your heart and body. It was the only way you could feel him.

Call it desperation or call it love. It wasn’t an obsession, nor a strange case of Stockholm Syndrome. You weren’t his captive, nor his trainee. You were never tied up, and neither was he. He didn’t hold you at gunpoint.

He was on the good side. 

He was your _partner._

You weren’t forced into what you had done with each other. He would never hold it against you, knowing you went into it willingly. You and him both knew what you were capable of, and you could have stopped it. He would rather feed you to the wolves, knowing you’d do your very best to free yourself without his help. What happened wasn’t a delusion. It was something else.

And you had allowed it to go on for way too long. You fell in too deep, and you think he knows.

You needed to escape The Capitol.

Keeping your head down as you walk through the howling of the city life, under the monorail and through the heavy puddles, you hear the undeniable whispering.

You had to be fast.

There’s a Coroner out of your peripheral. He wore his traditional black garment, boarded by a gold essence that only the elite could afford. His hair was immaculate, but his eyes were filled with uncertain rage. For half of a second, you think your eyes meet. You’re unsure, looking away as fast as you can.

The scarf on your flesh is soaking from the drizzling rain, and now you grow even more nervous. If the Leviathans or Snipers were to even spot a fraction of the tattoo on your neck, you knew you were screwed. You would be dead on the spot and given no opportunity for forgiveness or freedom.

They didn’t believe in jail here. There would be no trial or interrogation; only death. The people of The Capitol watched you as you pushed through the heavy crowds of the subway, under the overpass, and out into the dense fog. You knew they were wondering if you were one of the traitors they warned the society members of.

You cursed to yourself as more strands of your hair begged to fall out of your hood, your left fingers ached and trembled as you tried to tuck it back inside. You pull the black hood over your head and you wrap your silver scarf around your lower face and neck. It had served as a protective barrier in your life before the mission. It hid your identity well.

The scarf smelled of dust mites and humidity from being packed away in your closet for the last six months. You didn’t need to wear a scarf inside The Capitol. Your thin and gray top reached your upper thighs.

Your black pants were soaked against the hot skin of your thighs, and it was irritating as you walked.

You shivered, knowing that the shirt would serve you no use of protection outside of The Wall, where you soon would be again. It would not protect you against the winds, the virus, or the ongoing civil war. You would not survive.

Your long, dark gray, cotton overcoat you had harbored for the last few months in your metal getaway box felt heavy against your aching shoulders. You hadn’t used it since you had to fend for yourself for survival. Dirt and grime of the outer perimeters of this place badly ripped and tainted the seams on the bottom. After months of combat fighting, stress, and other physical activities, your sore muscles were catching up with you. You had allowed yourself to reach this point.

Because of your self-loathing (not because of your enemies or because of Hydra, or because of the people that had killed your family, having caved and hollowed you) but because you loved him.

And now all you could do was give up and run.

\+ + +

You passed the start of the iron gates, started your Stark Tracker, and you ran and ran.

You took every secret pathway that you and Bucky had learned and dissected over the last six months; the ones you trailed together.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the border of The Wall. They made the perimeter up of deep mud and it was thick around your beat-up combat boots, purposely making it harder for any trespasser to walk.

You look down at your feet and you were glad the boots were still tied on. You feel a twinge in your heart at the sudden memory that racks your brain. You had stolen them a little over a year ago off a poor girl on the side of an abandoned and looted grocery store. She had not made it. As you approached her body, it was apparent that she had been dead for days, but your feet had been unprotected for much longer. These boots have protected you, guided you.

The howling of the voices and the sound of the city were distant as you crawled towards the concrete barrier of the outside. It was massive, and it sent a shiver down your back. You slowed down your pace so the sound of the squelching mud became almost silent. There was nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the mud and the terrifying silence that you all knew that stood behind the wall. A distant howl, if you were quiet enough, maybe also a scream.

It was a wall that had protected you, protected you and Bucky, and that had given you hope for something different from what you had previously experienced. For those six months, because of this wall, there was no fathom or hunger. It kept you alive, and you had _felt_ alive.

There had been no physical pain. It was just the two of you.

The tears burn heavy in your throat as you look back to the beautiful, yet pure evil, city that you were supposed to overthrow and destroy.

_Hydra’s Society._

Eligible only for the rich, privileged, and those who harbored evil and selfish acts in their hearts. Not all the society members were amoral people, which was something you had learned early on. It was a horrible thing, what Hydra had done, what they had conquered, and what they had stolen from your parents. Yet, it was beautiful.

  
The city comprised of tall glass towers and mesmerizing skyscrapers. A few were still under new renovations, but most were mesmerizing to the eye. Neon lights of the many signs caught the fog in the air, and you watched from afar as the hologram in the sky showed _your_ faces, warning the people of your presence in their territory. It had a blue glow, illuminating even in the dense fog and rain.

You could hear the eery echo of the sound system and the soft hum of Neptune in the sky above, peaking through the heavy clouds. You know they are alerting their people again.

His face is there in the sky along with yours. Your eyes linger on his picture as it turns. He’s gorgeous and capable of sending way too many emotions throughout your body. You were once a forceful girl with a tough skin, and a strong heart. Stubborn and rebellious. But now, you are a disgrace to even yourself.

You close your eyes tightly together as you fist your hand again, pressing your back farther into the massive concrete sheath behind you. It’s cold and you feel it through the fabric of your coat. It was at least three hundred feet up into the sky, powerful enough that not even a nuke could breakthrough. You had doubted it for years, but now, feeling it behind you, you knew it wasn’t just a rumor.

Your mom and dad knew what they were doing.

The heavy rain pellets felt like hard stones on your heated flesh. Your hand sizzled with that feeling: attack, revenge, avenge, love; _heal._ But you couldn’t, not anymore.After stooping you so low, and after so many months of pure hatred and hostility, his words worked, and you allowed yourself to believe them.

You had to leave The Capitol.

Your eyes dart up towards the guarded gates at the top of the wall. You see several of the officers and Minesweepers, already on heavy patrol for the fugitives, the cowardly, the traitors - the hunt for _you both._

You are afraid.

You knew your Stark Tracker could only keep you shielded for ninety seconds, which is why you had waited so long to even activate it. It was a risk you found yourself willing to take. The stupors and generals could catch you at any moment if it were to fade, but that’s the least of your worries as you pull your hood higher above your head, tightening it with the scarf.

You couldn’t risk being seen if the tracker were to expire too soon. Your black boots splash in the mud that cave into the wall.

With tears still running down your cheeks, you turn around one more time to watch the power that Hydra had become. Towering in beauty and made up of skyscrapers that touched the clouds.

Part of you feels guilty as you remember his touch.

He was so broken.

You try not to think about how far he had come; you both had come, because you can’t let emotions cloud your judgment of what he really is. Not anymore.

He’s heartless. He’s... your chest grows tight.

_No, no._

You had become so angry that you couldn't control your emotions any longer. It had almost cost you your cover. But you no longer cared about the mission.

This was all Bucky’s mission now to complete. Without you.

Just like he always wanted.

So you ran.

* * *

[ _I don't believe that anybody, feels the way I do, about you now._ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3yKi4rCqemiew6wny9wIis?si=T7IiTquYSZqqKpxPhH3LyA)

* * *

[ _Soundtrack_ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0pxHFwY7UOCn06cmbU925z?si=q7Ri-HK1RSSQmGipiJ_IfQ)

[ _Trailer_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YA_I5xtP7dA)

[ _Moodboards_ ](https://allandoflimbo.tumblr.com/post/627089329710366720/ashens)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your lovely comments. I love all of you, dearly. *I've made a correction in the date. I accidentally put 2014. It's actually 2019.*

#  **2**

Year: 2019

Bucky didn’t like the pity as much as he didn’t like being alive.

Since the moment he stepped foot into the tower, he had been looked down at like he was either scum or a pity party.

He didn’t like it.

He wasn’t a damaged puppy or a victim of abuse, like they all said.

He was a killer.

He was a terrible man who deserved to have died when he was young. That’s what he would’ve told you if you asked him what he deserved. But no one ever asked.

No one asked how _he_ felt.

So he spent months the same way he was right now: alone with his thoughts.

He was in his room, a room with so much comfort that he thought it was hilarious that anyone felt he was deserving of it. He sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows on each of his knees, and his hands ran through his hair as he stared down at the floor.

His eyes closed tightly together as his chest grew tight.

His emotions were always all over the place. One second he didn’t feel deserving of life or love or redemption. But then the next he felt like he didn’t deserve to have been tortured or brainwashed.

He should have died - he should be dead. He shouldn’t have died, he should have been born in a different life where he could have lived his life to the full.

Steve was probably the only good thing that even came out of it. His best friend.

His throat tightens, as does his metal arm over his scalp.

It took a bit after he was taken in, for his mind to put things in piece by piece.

His memory came back little by little, and with each one, his psychological state only got worse.

People don’t know what it was like to witness the things he did.

He remembers the war, the Nazis, and Hydra.

He had been one of them. He remembers when The Holocaust happened; he remembers killing a family and a child, and he remembers the exact moment he pulled that trigger- killing JFK. He remembers it all. He remembers a different lifetime - not this.

Everything was different.

He felt robbed. Robbed of life, robbed of innocence.

But then today something happened that pushed him over the edge - finally.

He had been hanging out with Steve in the compound kitchen when it happened. Steve was showing him some throwbacks on Spotify, to maybe try to shake him up with some good memories, when a particular song by _Ella Fitzgerald_ came on.

Bucky had gone ghostly pale. Next, he saw the image of her in his head.

He started to remember his little apartment, that was more like a room. He remembers his small iron stove where he draped his jacket. He wore his suspenders over a tight white shirt and his flat Italian hat was tucked under his left arm.

He remembers looking over at her and their eyes meeting.

He then remembers the sound of her voice, then her name, and then every single beautiful aching memory in between.

He remembers wanting to _marry_ her.

Steve had gone silent the moment Bucky said her name, and by the look on his friend’s face, he knew that it hadn’t been a dream. She had been real. And he wanted to find her, he wanted to chase her down. He didn’t even care anymore that she was probably over one hundred years old by now, and most likely had already passed. He needed to find out about her.

Did she have a family?

Steve didn’t get in the way when Bucky asked Tony for help on finding her. Steve didn’t get in the way when Bucky found an article saying that she had died at just twenty-one years old by a gunshot to the brain, around the same time he had been deployed.

Now, he sat for eight hours straight, pulling on his hair and staring at the floor, feeling numb.

_I don't deserve this, right?_

He was angry at himself for allowing Hydra to do what they did, even if he had no control over himself.

_How could I have been so weak?_

He remembers every curvature of her body and the sounds she had made. He remembers the taste of her kiss. She had been his baby, his innocent girl, and now decades later, just when he remembers their time together(a literal lifetime), he finds out she was dead.

She had been murdered.

He pulls tighter on his hair as he remembers every bad thing his metal arm has ever done and every life it has taken. He knows he’s convinced himself enough that he is worthless, and there isn’t any going back to the boy he once was. He would never again be the boy that would always make a joke out of a situation. The one who always smiled and was happy.

Not anymore.

Because just when he thought there was a bright light, a _slight_ chance of something good happening, it was taken away from him just like that.

And not by just any shooter - a Hydra agent. Something _he_ was now a former of.

He might as well have pulled the trigger himself.

To make matters worst, the world was fighting a virus, something the earth’s mightiest heroes could do nothing about.

The emotions overwhelm him as he vomits all over his floor, right between his feet, in utter disgust.

It didn’t take him too long to clean up, and after not much longer, he passed out on his bed. Nightmare free.

\+ + +

Beacon Hill, MA

The little boy runs through the town in a hurry, hitting a middle-aged man on the arm, catching his attention. The little boy appears to be crying as he grips his hand to his chest.

A heavy fog engulfs the semi-busy street of Beacon Hill, Massachusets. The streets are lined by small coffee shops, a post office, and small boutiques.More young couples and high school kids walk down the sidewalk. It’s your ordinary tight-knit community.

A man kisses his wife on the steps of a furniture store. Some kids leave the local theatre in groups. People watch as the boy runs past them. Still panting, the boy turns the corner onto another street, which looks like an ally. The side street is empty, the fog appearing to become thicker in the air.

The boy cries in pain, clutching his hand tighter to his body, stepping in puddles. The white wrap around his hand becomes soaked in red blood and it’s visible.Clumsily, he tumbles onto the sidewalk head first, gasping desperately for air. He turns onto his side as he screams, going into a fetal position.

His scream echoes out into the night.

\+ + +

Just a mile away, a fifty’s style diner is lit up by a blinking neon sign in bright red color: _Pough’s Delight._

People sit around the semi-crowded restaurant, scattered about in different seats. A young couple sits by the window, and a few older people sit on the stools lining the counter. Some talk among themselves, happily, while other’s attention remains on the TV displayed in the top-right corner.

The TV is an older Sony Wega CRT set, but somehow the audio resonated well, keeping everyone's eyes set on it. 

A tv reporter speaks as an image of burning buildings, rioting, and people laying on the streets are shown. The bottom right of the screen reads _Chicago._

_“At this time, it is still hard to tell how, and when, help will arrive for all of us here in the US. Most of us trying to continue to live life as normally as possible. Chicago, and most of the Midwest, is finally seeing some of the same horrors we saw earlier last year in the middle east and France. The virus continues to spread farther east, people are trying to resort to their own means of protection. It is unknown when the presumed city of sanctuary, which they call The Capitol, will finally be open to the public, which is promised by the president, and its co-founders politicians - Micheal and Beth Y/L/N. Until further notice, we warn that anyone that sees a sign of someone with the symptoms, to please report it to their local authorities and to stay safe. This includes—”_

A brunette, late teens, in a white and red cheerleading outfit that reads BULLS, sits on one stool. She drinks a vanilla milkshake. A blonde boy, tall and pretty, wears a varsity jacket. He’s around her age and he’s sitting right next to her, his arm draped around her shoulder; possessively.

Her eyes linger on the television,and she looks afraid.

“You’ll keep me safe, right?” Despite her fear, she maintains a strong tone in her voice.

“If I don’t?” The boy asks, playfully. The girl smirks as her boyfriend nuzzles his face into her neck.

“Imma Hold it against you. Asshole.”

“They say it’s still too far from the east coast. It hasn’t even touched Pleasant Valley yet, and everyone’s secretly hoping it goes there and stays there - in that hell hole.”

The girl chuckles.

“You’re just saying that because Emily Guinevere moved there last summer and you hold a grudge. Even so, when it gets here, I want to get the biggest penthouse they have behind that sanctuary wall they’re building. Imagine it. You and me, in a big bed, all day, all night; safe.” The boy picks at his straw with a snarl as the girl continues, dreamily.

“Pretty sure they already have that one saved for their weird daughter.” He says under his breath.

“I heard a rumor that the reason she still lives at home is because she went nuts and almost tried to stab her last boss, and to avoid bad tabloid, her parents insisted she just stayed home with them. Didn’t want to ruin their perfect reputation by risking her being seen walking out of some psycho house.”

You hear it all as you refill the white mug under the expresso machine. You briefly look down at your white top and blue apron. You had a tag on the left side with your name on it. You finish up the beverage with a snarl, sliding it across the counter to the older man who then nods you a thank you.

“It’s why she dropped out of college and can never get a job anywhere. Rumors at the Bulls says she used to eat her lunch in Mr. Ike’s classroom all through senior year. I don’t remember her much, I was a Freshman when she graduated. She’s lucky she’s a spoiled bitch with rich parents. They probably treat her like a princess. My bet is that she’ll be the last to die, without working a day in her life for it.”

Your grip tightens on the pocket of your apron, and your head snaps up to look at the couple. You don’t realize your manager is standing off to your left until she nudges you to get your attention.

“I need you to clear tables. I have to run out for a few minutes.” She tells you.

“Got it, Susan.” You say.

She gives you a glare.

“Call me Mrs. Thompson, or I’m sending you back to dishwashing duties.”

Susan leaves.

You wipe down the counter, and it’s evident on your face how unpleasant you find your job. Yet, you continue to wipe, your eyes scanning around the diner until you’re once again met face to face with the local varsity couple.

You catch the end of the girl’s elbow with the wet towel. The girl gives you a dirty look.

“I’m sorry.” You say curtly.

The girl stares at you for a hard second before speaking up.

“That’s fine.”

You continue to wipe and your name tag is clearly visible to the girl. The girl’s face drops dramatically, her eyes drifting back to your face.

“You’re Y/N, Y/L/N.”

You smile, sincerely.

“It’s fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been referenced to as a spoiled bitch in the third person. People see what they want to see.”

The girl gapes slightly.

“I didn’t — I don’t—”

You want to add something when the entrance to the diner opens wide.

The bells above the door ding obnoxiously.

You’re shocked to see none other than the guy you had been crushing on for the last two months. You couldn’t help it, he had a nice smile.

Your eyes linger longer than necessary on the attractive man. Your head snaps back to the girl who was still talking, but you couldn’t hear a thing she said.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You say, brushing her off.

You watch the man as you step away from the couple. You were still in a daze.

The host grabs two menus and leads him and his friend to a table.

Will, your coworker, grabs your shoulder from behind playfully. You turn around only for a moment before going back to cleaning the counter. Will was funny, and probably the only genuine friend you had.

He was in his early twenties, average height, had brown hair, and matching brown eyes.

“You know, staring is rude.” He says.

“I wasn’t staring. I was gazing. Briefly.”

“It’s a pity. And you’ve only been nuts about him for the last few weeks. Every single time he’s walked in here, you look like you’ve seen a damn ghost.”

With an eye roll, you pick up your wet towel and walk towards the kitchen in the back.

Will follows behind like a puppy.

“Shut up. I have tables to clean.” You say.

“Looks to me like you’d like to do way more than clean his table. If you know what I mean.”

You roll your eyes.

“Seriously, Will. Stop.”

“I don’t get why you don’t just say hi?” He smirks, standing in the door of the kitchen with arms crossed.

You toss the dirty rag into the trash, walk past him, and then grab a clean one off the dish cart.

You make your way around the counter and to your first dirty table near the window.

You hover in close proximity of cute-guy’s table, but trying not to make it too obvious. You pick up on his and his friend’s conversation.

He’s giving his friend advice on ordering the pancakes.

 _The blueberry ones_.

You smile.

You’re finishing up the table when his arm hits his silverware off the side of the table. You bend down quickly and hand it over to him.

There’s a long pause as he takes it from you.

“Thanks.” He barely gives you a second glance. You clear your throat, a bit embarrassed.

“It fell. I’ll get you a new one.” You say.

He nods at you, looking down at his menu. You, flustered, walk back towards the kitchen.

Will stands there, smirking. You want to punch it off his face.

“Nice, the old oops-you-dropped-something move. Classic.”

“I swear to Lucifer, William if you don’t shut -”

You’re abruptly cut off, as a loud commotion from near the register catches your attention and everyone else’s in the Diner.

You groan.

At the counter stands your mother: early fifties, in a tailored and expensive women’s suit, short hair at her shoulders, makeup impeccable, and yelling at the hostess.

“Shit.” You say under your breath.

You toss the new wet towel and utensil in the kitchen sink and walk over to where the hostess stands. You could tell the poor girl was intimidated.

You take a deep breath when you approach the scene.

“Mom.”

Your mom’s shoulder’s relax drastically.

“Thank God, Y/N. I need you to come with me.”

“Mom, I’m working, I can’t just leave. Unlike you, I need this job.”

Your mother walks over to you and gives you a stern look. You knew that look, it scared you more when you were a child, but it still set you off the same way. She grabs your forearm tightly.

“You are coming with me. Now. Your dad’s already outside waiting.”

Your brows furrow together.

“Dad? What’s going on?”

  
Your mom is reluctant to answer for a moment. She goes from angry and afraid in a second. She looks around the restaurant and then back to you, as if looking for something.

“In the car.”

“Mom-“

“Now.”

You look over your shoulder at Will. He looks at you sympathetically. A couple of the customers also watch, including the cute customer.

“Fine. Just let me put my apron back first.”

“No.”

You’re stunned. At lost for words, and not in the mood to argue, you nod politely and follow your mother out the door. The door dings once more.

You arrive at the car - a black Tahoe. Your mother gets inside but you’re still outside, the car door open and waiting for you.

“Mom, please tell me what’s going on.”

“Get the hell in, now.” She says.

Your father sits in the driver’s seat, a light blue dress shirt hugging his shoulders, his right hand tightly around the steering wheel.

“Now!” He says, his tone louder than your mom's.

You swallow nervously and there are fresh tears in your eyes.

You get in and buckle up your seat belt. You meet your father’s troubled eyes in the rearview mirror.

“It’s here.” He says.

“What are you talking about?” You ask him, fearing you already knew what he was talking about.

“The Virus.” He answers.

Your mom doesn’t turn around when she speaks, “It’s here, they saw a boy running. But someone picked him up. We don’t know who yet. All we know is that it wasn’t enough time.”

“What do you mean, not enough time?” You ask.

“The Society; the wall that was supposed to build a safe place for everyone to live until there was a cure. The place half the country is expecting to be finished by now--it’s not.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we have to get out of Boston. We need to move closer to The City, we need to finish our plan, so we can all be safe. We’re taking you there now.” Your dad explains.

“But I’m not ready, I’m not prepared, I don’t even have anything packed yet. You guys said it wouldn’t be here for months, even a year. If at all. Everyone said we were safe here. That The Capitol was just precautionary.”

“Yeah, well, we were all wrong.” He says.

Your hands start to shake and you are visibly shaken. You stare out the window of the car as your dad pulls out of the parking lot. You see a young woman kissing a young man outside of one of the local theaters. Your gaze falters.

“Are we going to warn everyone?”

“We will. Not tonight, though.” Your dad says.

Your gaze snaps to your father’s in the mirror again.

“They need a chance, they need to prepare just as much as us.” You retaliate.

“Yes, but we don’t want chaos, either. We need you safe first.”

\+ + +

Your life was always something that you tried not to take _too_ seriously, or maybe you put so much effort into trying not to care that you ended up caring too much.

Your first car was a rusted little Jeep that had hundreds of recalls. It was so old it didn’t have aux feature, so you would settle for any college alternative rock station. It was in that said car, when you were waiting for the skies to finally open up into a downpour, that the first drop of mention of the killer virus came on the radio. You remembered being afraid, but then everything had also made sense. Your parent’s secrecy made sense. They explained it all to you that night in detail.

You understood their intentions for the wellbeing of the entire world, and it was something the media and your peers always misunderstood.

It’s why you had no genuine friends, and why you had formed such a tough shell.

Screw them if they didn’t like you for who you were, or that they never even gave you a chance. That’s what you always told yourself, but you knew deep down that it hurt deeply. You were like all of them. You enjoyed binge-watching the best of the best tv shows, and you were even part of a fandom. You loved music, you loved to sing, and you were an extroverted introvert. You had a sense of humor that always made yourself laugh.

On your eighteen birthday, you got a tattoo of a little cobra on the back of your neck. It had no meaning. You just got it for the sake of having it, because that’s who you are.

You were carefree, and you loved too hard.

It’s why as soon as you and your parents got home to pick up some things you had no business knowing about, you quickly snook out to run to the drugstore down the street. You took caution on your way there.

Walking down the snack isle, you smite to yourself. You wanted some snacks for the road, something for your mom and dad. You got your dad’s favorite, a Toblerone, and your mom’s, a bag of skittles.

Pausing, you almost consider picking up the Avengers theme skittles, eyeing Captain America’s a second longer than was necessary.

You had to stay focused. The surrounding people did not understand what was happening, but you did. It made you feel selfish for it.

You tucked the snacks into your bag and went around the house so no one could see you had sneaked out. That was the plan, until you saw your front door slightly ajar and an unfamiliar car parked out front.

You felt something deep in your stomach that you couldn’t place. Immediately, you knew something wasn’t right.

Slowly and afraid, you got closer to the door, being sure to make no noises as you did so. You were half expecting you would need to enter your house to find out what was going on, but you stumbled back slightly in shock when you realized you didn’t have to look very far.

The scene in front of you was out of a horror movie, and you wanted to scream and tell the man standing in your living room to get away from your parents. Luckily, you knew better than that.

There they were on a chair, their hands tied behind their backs and and their feet tied together. They had a black blindfold over their eyes.

Your mom was sobbing, and your dad was deadly silent.

What shocked you the most was that you recognized the man. Tt was the same man from the diner, the cute one, and he had a gun pointed straight to your mother’s head. 

There was a skull with tentacles on his upper left chest that hadn’t been there before.

You knew that pin. Everyone did.

“Where is it?” He had an American accent. His voice was thick with demand and authority.

“I won’t tell you.” Your mother snarled through heavy tears.

“Where is the damn reserve? Your people won’t survive, anyway. We’ve had this under plans for years. It was always in the plan of Hydra to take over The Capitol and make it ours. We will be the survivors. Dirt and grime like you should fend for yourselves,” he shifted from feet to feet and turned the safety off. The click sent a shiver through everyone in that room, “Now tell me where it is?”

“No!” Your mom yelled and that must’ve struck a nerve in the man, because in a blink of an eye, he moved his hand just an inch over to the left and shot your father straight through the head.

Tears were running down your face and you fell back. With another bang, your eyes went up to the sky and you started gasping for breath. You knew very well that that second shot was for your mother.

Quickly,and as best as you could through heavy nerves and heavy breathing, you backed away from the door and towards the side left of the house. You couldn’t let him see you. In the back of your mind, you knew he knew you had to be around somewhere.

He knew they had picked you up. He knew about you.

To the best of your abilities, you crawled yourself as far as you could from your home and closer to your neighbor’s. You found yourself crawling around their backyard. You tried your best to ignore the emotional pain you were feeling so you could save your own life.

You crawled under the bushes and made your way closer to the white siding of your neighbor’s home.

You had to ignore the agony you were in and the sharp sobs racking through your chest.

You had to run.

* * *

[ _You and me was like a vivid dream, why'd you wake me up?_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/54YQtdMV5jrQfK2a3DxMzc?si=pR11jtpWReSergJxOiEBHw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Bucky will meet very soon. This is not a slow burn, I promise. You'll also begin to notice that in this story, Hydra will be slightly more powerful than the Avengers, which seem a bit OOC, but essential. I also have no set scheduling for updating...I'll update as I complete the chapters. No reason to hold onto it if it's written. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're reaching The Capitol, but just when you think things can't get any worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky, Steve, and Reader will all be in the next chapter. :) I told you it's not a slow burn. Again thank you for your lovely comments and for giving this a chance. I love you.

#  **3**

Month: February

Year: 2021

****

Society had fallen.

It had been three years since you saw your parents being murdered in your living room, and since the civil war started.

First, it was the fight for the cure, then it was the fight for protection. Next, came the riots, the fight for food, and eventually, it all became a survival of the fittest. 

Electricity and communication were no more. You don’t even remember the last time you saw a working TV. Family was no more. Violence and dishonesty were now the brutal answer.

These days, protection came in the form of clothing you owned and how much you had of it. After it became apparent that this virus was actually a bacteria born and flesh-eating disease, everyone did what they could to try and keep their skin protected as much as possible. It ate through the skin and took over your body like a plague. Heavy clothing equaled less chance of being infected. It didn’t take very long for clothing stores to be looted along with the grocery and drug stores.

Eventually, you’d have to make use of any clothing you found on dead bodies that were killed by assassination and not by the virus itself. You couldn’t risk that.

But even that was rare to come by. Everyone jumped at the opportunity of a clothed dead corpse. Whether it was for the scarf, the pants, shoes, or socks.

During the riots, most of the homes had all been destroyed either by fire or vandalism. Some tainted by dead bodies; murder scenes. Some were eaten by the virus.

You didn’t want to live in a home that was infected. Destroyed homes were ruined by the winter’s harsh snowstorms and the summer’s heavy rainfall. Because of their collapsed ceilings, mixed in with the weather, it all eventually began to mold and collapse.

Life was no more. Happiness and serenity were gone, except for in The Capitol.

No one could get inside The Wall. You heard rumors that it was guarded by heavy military and machine guns, and all of Hydra.

The Capitol was a place where your parents had planned for every single one of you to make use of to help you survive and live a happy life. It was supposed to be a safe haven, not this.

It was now the place that had been savagely stolen by Hydra and the evil rich. The migration into The Capitol had happened very soon after your parent’s death. You've heard that the rich, elite, privileged, and only some certain politicians, were taken in.

The other remaining politicians, had either killed themselves or were killed by other government officials, just like your parents had been. You heard rumors that this had been an undercover mission for years. They all knew how to take over the moment it was necessary.

Even the doctors and scientists had been taken with them, and you wondered if it was at their own will. Meanwhile, everyone else - people like you and Will and _simple middle-class families_ with children - were forced to fight each other to stay alive.

It was a bloodbath.

The first few months, you and Will had refused to fight anyone for food. That wasn’t in your moral plans. But, eventually, there was a day when neither of you had eaten in three days, and the only thing left in a dirty store off Route 95, was a loaf of bread.You, Will, and this random girl all argued until you eventually agreed on splitting it into three small pieces.

The girl had been chewing her piece, devouring it like she hadn’t eaten in days, when her eyes landed on the tattoo on your neck. Immediately, you knew she knew who you were. Her eyes grew dark and she jumped at the chance to attack you when Will came from behind. He hit her on the back of the head with a heavy bucket, making her pass out.

You knew that no one really knew what happened to your family. They all think it was your parent’s intentions for all of these horrible things to have happened. They blame you and your family for this. This only made you want to avenge your parents even more and even Will knew that. This life wasn’t what they wanted, and it’s not what you wanted either.

You had been sitting one night, in the middle of a forest in (possibly) Connecticut around a blazing fire, eating a fish you had just caught with your handmade spear. The fear had helped feed you both for many months. Will smiled over the fire at you, licking the meat off the bone, clean.

“We’ll get there, Y/N.”

You stared at the fire in a daze. You hadn’t lost hope, or at least you don’t think you did. Your feet had been bare for weeks and they were starting to chafe and bleed. You dug them into the dry leaves for some temporary relief.

You wouldn’t admit it, but part of you _did_ lose a little hope. You feared the first snowfall of the year. It was almost comical to you how your last worry at the moment was frostbite.

You took a deep breath, enjoying the taste of the Tilapia. You wrapped your heavy scarf over your shoulders.

“I know, I’m just tired. I wish I had more strength, I wish _we_ had more strength. There’s two of us and thousands of them, Will.”

It was the first sign of doubt you had shown in months, and it slightly surprised Will.

“I know, but we can do it. I know we can.” he licked his fingers clean and then laid down on the wet and cold grass, his hands folded behind his head.

Could you do it? You weren’t sure anymore. You knew you wanted to kill Hydra and you wanted to overtake The Capitol. But were you two really capable of doing that? Have you two been delusional this entire time?

“Its been three years. Three years.” You say softly, exhausted.

“True, but we’re young. And we’re smart. We have an advantage they don’t. _That_.” He bent one of his legs and stared up at the stars. A small smile creeps onto his lips, “We could always call _The Avengers_.”

You scoffed, running your hands through your hair as you threw the bare spine into the fire. You were a bit sad you finished it, your tummy still turning in hunger.

“What Avengers? Hydra destroyed their home; everything. They tried to fight and they lost. Worst than when Thanos beat them. And to make matters worse, this is a virus, it’s not something they can necessarily control. They’ve become overpowered, even the damn _Avengers_ are overpowered now by Hydra. This is like a horror movie that will never end. It’s time we face the facts.”

Will smirked.

“I don’t know if I buy it. You mean to tell me even Bruce _fucking_ Banner couldn’t break that damn wall?”

You gave him a comical glare.

“I don’t think the goal here is to break The Wall. If anything that would _ruin_ the purpose, don’t you think?” you picked up a small and harmless rock and threw it at his chest, making him cringe, “dipshit.”

Will continued to stare up at the stars.The night was midnight black. These days, since there was no longer any electricity, you could even see the milky-way.

“I don’t see this ending badly.” he says.

You wish you had his good heart and good soul. You furrow your brows at him.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“This whole thing. We’ll fix it, I know we will. I don’t know how, but it will happen. I’m sure of it.”

You consider his words and nod. You slowly take your time to get up and walk over to where he is. You pull your heavy apocalyptic-style hood over your head and scooch over closer to him until you are touching. You cross your own arms behind your head, also looking up at the stars. They looked beautiful, and for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to feel even a little bit serene.This is why you enjoyed Will.

He was your best friend and your guardian angel.

“You really think so?” You ask.

Will turned his head over and looked at you. You did the same thing, staring back into his eyes.

You were suddenly afraid; afraid of losing your friend. What would you do without a good soul like him to keep you sane and strong?

“I do.” There was no trace of doubt in his voice.

You tried to believe him. You really did.

\+ + +

You and Will began to fend for survival. You often thought of killing your parent’s murderer when you would both be laying under a tree, in the cold of the night, trying to fall asleep.

You would never forget that face; the face of the man who killed your mom and dad.

You and Will would both alternate between being watchmen, to guard your food and weapons. You mostly used the weapons just for hunting, but you never knew what could happen. Still, you remained alert and vigilant.

You both never ventured too much into the city, trying to stay on the outskirts as much as you possibly could. But one day, you had cut your hand while trying to spear more seafood in a riverbed, and the cut ended up being deeper than you could manage. Not only did you fear it to get in the way of your hunting, but you also didn’t want your blood seeping in through your clothing, making it more versatile to the virus.

You both found a looted, but in not-too-bad-of-a-condition, dollar store just off the freeway. You both climbed over some of the abandoned cars, making sure to look in each one just in case there was something worth taking.

You got to the entrance of the store, and Will told you he would be outside waiting and keeping guard while you looked for some bandages.

The store was almost completely empty, yet you found your way into the med isle, stepping over fallen light fixtures and useless items like beanie babies and dusted up Happy Birthday cards.You were rummaging through some boxes when you heard it.

A scream.

_Will._

Your heart jumped into your throat and you acted on autopilot. You didn’t second guess anything. You ran through the doors and over the fallen cable wires without hesitation. Your eyes searched the eery and abandoned parking lot. You didn’t see him and you screamed Will’s name over and over again, running around the deserted parking lot. You knew it was dangerous, but you had to find him. You heard a groan and you quickly saw him lying against the curb off to the side of the highway, his arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

You feared the worst.

“No, no,” you repeated to yourself. You tried to be careful to not slip on the black ice beneath your leather boots.

You ran towards his fallen body, and the first thing you saw was how pale he was. His face was emotionless. Most likely from shock. You crouched down next to him and you pulled his arm away from his chest. You saw a knife sticking out from his upper abdomen and you saw blood.

A lot of blood.

He was panting and it didn’t take you long to look up across the other side of the street. There was a man faced down into the pavement. You swallowed thickly, knowing there was a fight and Will had gotten hurt.

“He saw you and he kept saying he wanted your coat, he was a loon and he had a machete, and he — and he—” Will panted.

“Shhh, shhh.” You hugged him tightly to your body as you rocked him back and forth.

“I wanted to protect you.” he says.  
  
“I know, Will. I know.” you cried, closing your eyes tightly together and holding him closer.

He barely coughed out, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“It hurts.” He cried.

Heavy tears cloud your vision and you feel a sudden sense of impending doom.

“I got you, Will, I got you.” You don’t know if you were speaking to him or yourself at this point.

He stretched his arm up and grabbed yours by the shoulder, pulling your embrace tighter around his body.

“We’ll get them, Y/N. We’ll avenge your parents, I promise. I’m too strong for this.” He squeaked, “I won’t die.” He said through clenched teeth.

Tears ran down your face as you watched him grab his own open abdomen with this other hand.

“You are, Will. You are so strong.” Your face tilted to the side as more sobs racked through your body, “Please, don’t leave me. I can’t be alone. I can’t do this alone.”

You felt his nimble fingers dig into your elbow as it slid down, smearing you with his blood.

“I’m so sorry.” He whimpered, some blood escaping his lips this time.

“Please, please.” You cried over and over again, holding him tighter to your chest.

It didn’t take much longer for you to feel him go limp in your arms. Your body shook with your cries when you repeated it back to yourself: Will was dead.

\+ + +

You didn’t allow yourself to cry for too long. You wanted to, but you knew you needed to keep moving, and being this exposed could only cost you your life.

You quickly found a nice area, the nicest you could possibly find in an arena of death, and you carefully laid Will’s body down. Ironically, it was in a field of dead daisies. You delicately draped his arms over his chest, in a crisscross, and you whispered your goodbyes to him. You took a moment to cherish who he was. He was a lonely son of a construction worker and an accountant. His bother died two years ago after being infected. He had been in pain for a long time, but he had a good heart, and he strived to stay at your side to help you. You let your tears fall on your hands as you held his for just a few more minutes.

No more than a half-hour later, and after finding some bandages, you were back in the woods. You continued your journey south. You pulled out the compass that Will had given you, just to be sure.

It was close to dusk when you heard the sound of a river bed running down below. Your stomach grumbled, suddenly feeling very hungry again. You had been out of luck today, finding not even one squirrel or deer. Not even a bird.

You hadn’t eaten since that morning, when you and Will had split a couple of spare pumpkin seeds.

Your chest tightened at the thought of him again.You felt awful for just leaving him in the field like that. You knew someone would find him soon and take the clothing off his body to keep for their own. You know you had no other choice, and there was no time for a proper burial.

You continued your walk. The boots that you had stolen off a girl’s body, squished in the mood and dirt beneath your feet. You were thankful it hadn’t snowed yet this year. The cold was already unbearable as it was, and if there was snow, it would only make your journey worst. You couldn’t take the conditions you were in for granted.

You don’t know how much farther you walked since you had no watch. No one had watches anymore. Time didn’t exist anymore. But, it would help in order for you to estimate your location and how far you had left in your journey. You were guessing, realistically, it had been about an hour, judging by how much darker the sky now was.

You knew you needed to find a corner to settle in and build a fire. You needed a place to sleep for the night. Food would have to wait until tomorrow, you would go to sleep hungry again.

You take a deep breath and rest your hand on a large tree as a pain rattled through your tummy. You were extremely fatigued, in desperate need of water. You had been dehydrated for a while. You knew your canteen was running low so you had to savor as much as you could.

You took necessary sips here and there.

You drift your eyes over the horizon and through the broken branches until your gaze lands of a patch of grass that looked decent enough for a rest stop. You would lay your dirty rag you call a blanket there and get some rest.

You slowly started your walk again, tucking your canteen back into your bag.

You heard owls in the sky around you, and you grew worried as you began to realize that with Will now gone, you were truly alone. There was no way you could avenge your parents alone. You couldn’t go into The Capitol alone.

You had no chance.

Your hands grew clammy and you started feeling worried sick, your mind now in overdrive.

You were screwed. You were all alone and screwed, and there was no chance in hell you were going to come out of this alive. You find yourself angry at Will. Angry at him for lying to you and saying that everything would be okay.

How could he say that? How could he lie to make you believe it was true? You wouldn’t be capable of doing this alone. Even the Avengers couldn’t do this. Even the Earth’s _mightiest heroes_ could not win against Hydra, yet here you were trying to overthrow an entire city filled with them?

You remember the people talking about how their compound had been bombed and destroyed. They didn’t have a home anymore. They had three missions where they tried to overthrow it and failed miserably. It pained you to see that your parent's hope for the future had become a living hell of blood and war. How could Will have so much faith in you? You remember the feel of his limp body in your arms and your sadness is unbearable.

More tears found your eyes and you rubbed your wet nose over the back of your sleeve. Something heavy caught the tip of your boot, and with a shriek you found yourself tumbling down and down.

Then, everything went dark.

* * *

[ _Odyssey_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0bOAQdp0UbNQQyQbom3bEl?si=Gh7K0dQYRIOQ5F_kQJv2Ug)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? What's happening to me? - Gif goes to video credit: SUNDAY by The Panics, not mine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets Steve. Bucky's a dick.

#  **4**

You opened your eyes to the sound of crickets and the rustling of leaves from underneath you. You felt a sharp pain in your left leg as you tried to sit up to see what happened. You groaned, only managing to pull yourself up slightly enough to see the tips of your boots. You lean back on your elbows and frantically start looking around.

Your neck is a bit stiff as you turn it from side to side, but you’re thankful it doesn’t take too long to realize you had fallen down a very steep cliff. You see the peeks of heavy mud under your feet and you realize you had slipped.

You curse yourself for not being more careful.

Pulling yourself up and close to a small tree next to the running creek, you wince at the quick pain that shoots through your hand. You pull it back to your chest immediately, cringing. You had forgotten about your open wound. Trying not to aggregate it too much, you finally maneuver yourself until your back is up against the slightly wet bark.

It’s then that you see how dark it is, and realize you must’ve been out cold for at least a couple of hours. You reach your hand up to the back of your head, grimacing and trying to find an injury that might’ve been caused by the fall.

You must have hit your head pretty hard.

After long seconds of searching your scalp for blood or pain and finding nothing, you give up in exhaustion, dropping your arm down on your thigh. You began to worry as hunger and pain crept up your body. You were slowly starting to doubt even more that you would reach The Capitol successfully.

Throwing your head back against the tree, you take a deep breath and hope for some well-needed rest. You also hoped your leg wasn’t hurt too bad. You were too scared to bend it and find out, worrying that the answer would make you give up once and for all.

The crickets have gotten louder and so had the sound of the water flowing down the river.

It’s silent, until suddenly, it isn’t.

You hear a heavy ruffle of grass and twigs, and you feel your heart beating away quickly in your chest. You only have to look slightly to your right to see one of your worst fears approaching you from within the shadows.

It’s an older man, maybe mid-forties, and average height. He’s limping and he looks very pale. There’s a desperate look in his caved eyes. It doesn’t take too long for you to actually _see_ what you were looking at it.

And judging by the dark black/green substance over his lower stomach and on his arm, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was infected.

And he was making his way over to you.

Your sense of pity quickly turned into fear, and you tried to back away as much as you possibly could without triggering any pain. Your breathing picked up as did his limping, his dark eyes not leaving your body.

“Please, please.” He was begging, his voice hoarse.

You swallowed thickly, torn between wanting to be a good person and help, or trying to run away to save yourself. But you knew that even if you wanted to help him, you couldn’t. He had no hope. He clearly knew this too by the look in his eyes.

The look in his eyes haunted you as he got closer to you.

“Stay away.” You whispered, desperately. Your eyes went down to his hands as they extended towards you. If he even got some of the bacteria on your exposed skin, you would be just like him in a little over four hours.

You tried to push yourself away with your hurt left leg, whimpering.

The sharp pain radiated through you.

The man fell to the ground and you watched as he tried to crawl towards you.

“I can’t help you, you know I can’t.” You shook your head, “I’m sorry.”

The man cried as some blood escaped his mouth and dribbled down his chin. You watched in emotional pain. This was heart-wrenching.

But this feeling was soon gone when he almost grabbed your boot, his action rough and violent. Your hand immediately snaked around into your backpack, your cold and nimble fingers wrapping around your spear.

“You need to go.” You warned him through blurry tears, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The man stared at you for a second before reaching for you with a feral growl.

You jumped back as far as you could, crying out in intense pain from your injured hand and leg.

You pulled out the spear and everything else was a blur. His growls and your cries mingled in the air together.

Suddenly, everything went quiet, and all you heard was the same rush of that river. You felt your heart in your chest, ripping away at the seams.

You swallowed heavy sobs and you gasped when your vision cleared and you saw what you had done.

There was the man laid out in front of you on his back, your beautiful hand made spear right through the middle of his chest. And you cry again.

How were you going to do this alone? You know you should get as far away as possible from the body, but you were too tired and in too much pain. You were hungry.

Was this it? Was this the end?

The man’s soulless black eyes were the last thing you saw before you blacked out again.

Another twig, and another mini heart attack, and you were awake again. This time it sounded like heavy footsteps and they were approaching you. Their pace wasn’t quick but it was fast enough that you could tell the person was not injured. You sway your head to the side and slowly open your eyes.

Your gaze is on the dead body - the man you killed - and then you follow the sound of the heavy footsteps stops.

You see heavy grey boots behind the man's head, and slowly, your eyes drift up the person’s body.

They wore all black and a long trench coat.

Maybe this was it. Of course, you would die like this.

You don’t have time to drift your eyes all the way up before the man is crouched down on one knee.

He’s a black man and he’s staring down at the corpse. Next, he’s looking at your hurt leg, and then your face.

You feel the sudden need to laugh when your eyes meet because the irony couldn’t have been any better. You can almost hear Will laughing in the distance.

Because of course, no other than _Nick Fury_ would be right there looking you dead in the eye, with his one eye.

“Did you kill this man?” His voice was strong, demanding.

You swallow thickly, your eyes once again trailing to the body you murdered.

“Yes,” your voice is weak, “I took his life. He was sick.” Your voice breaks at the end.

“And this weapon?”  
  
Your eyes trail over the beautiful wooden spear which Fury flicks with his finger.

“I made it.”

He looks at it for a few long seconds with a look you can’t read and then back to your face. He examines you, like _really_ looks at you, and you start to feel a bit uncomfortable.

“What were you trying to do?” His question confuses you a bit.

You swallow thickly.

“I was trying to get away, but I hurt my leg. There was no other choice.”

“You’re alone?”

A beat.

“Yes. My friend got killed a couple of miles back. We were headed south.” Fury tilts his head at you.

“Can you walk?” He asks.

You try to push yourself up on your hands and a low cry leaves your lips as some weight lands on your left leg. You slouch back down, defeated.

You’re in a daze as your eyes shut again, you hunger now making you delirious. You’re not aware anymore of your surroundings and it takes you minutes to realize Fury had managed to get you up on your feet with your arm thrown over his shoulder.

He’s your crutch and most likely has been for the last mile or so since you no longer see the river.

+++

Your ears perk up at a sound you hadn’t heard in years. Chatter.

Fury is walking you through some low shrubs and fallen trees, and suddenly, you’re faced with an open field.

There are camps and tents set up, and there are people walking about. What startles you the most is their attire. They were stripped down, similarity to how the world used to dress before the fall. It was obvious you stuck out like a sore thumb in your post-apocalyptic attire.

Some of them are laughing, some talking, and some are being treated for injuries by others.

What was this?

You feel Fury’s grip tighten on you, and for a second, you feel bad for him tugging you miles like this.

He walks you through the camp, where you see some younger and older kids. You also see some young adults around your age and a few people who could be in their early to mid-thirties. They all look well, and for a second it angers you.

Some girl, who looked around your age, looks up from washing what could be a shirt in a large bucket, and she smiles at you. Some others look at you, but apprehensively.

Fury has you walking towards a smaller tent that is closed off by two wooden shutters on each side. When you walk in, you see a few others laying on some cots. You’re guided to an empty one of the far left corner.

He drops you down diligently and then leaves without a word. You feel a bit awkward and overwhelmed at the sudden change of scenery and environment.

You look over to the shutters where Fury is talking to that same girl you made eye contact with earlier. She nods and walks over to you.

“Hey there.” She greets you softly.

You don’t say anything for a while as you watch her wring out a wet towel and some other rags.

“Hi.” Your voice is small and hesitant.

The water wrings out into the bucket almost mockingly. They just happened to have clean water?

“Fury tells me you hurt your leg. May I take a look? I—”

“—I’m hungry.” You practically cut her off.

The look she gives you is pitiful and you feel the tears in the back of your throat. You never knew hunger like this before.

It hurt.

She looks you over once and then nods slowly.

“I’ll grab you some soup.”  
  
Soup? They had soup here?

  
+++

Bucky’s arranging some heavy guns on a long table in front of him. He puts them together and takes them apart, cleans them, and repeats it all over again.

It’s one of the only things that keep him sane.

He had another memory today. A memory of a simple time and a life lost. He takes a magazine from his tactical AK-47 and shoves it up the magazine wall of the heavy gun. He slams it back down and leans his arms out on the table, breathing hard.

His metals fingers flex over the solid table and he looks at it in disgust.

This was all he was good for. He stopped being a man eighty-three years ago.

He missed his family, his life before he was drafted, he missed Brooklyn, he missed jazz, he missed dancing, he missed being happy, and he missed his best girl. He missed how life used to be — _this_ wasn’t life. Even the kids these days were different than during his time.

They held no respect.

Now, all he had under his arm was hundreds of killings, murder, and years of guilt, and evil. He wasn’t a man anymore, he was a machine.

Shuri’s work only made him more convinced of that after he got back from Wakanda.

He sees the little girl he killed in his head, he remembers that day so well it resonates with him every second of every day. 

His hands flex again.

“Fury’s found another girl,” Steve mumbles as he walks into Bucky’s quarters.

Bucky rolls his eyes, picking his gun back up, and pretending his episode didn’t happen.

“I know the days of Stark technology are long gone, and doors are now obsolete, but if you could just _not_ barge into my room that’d be great.”

Steve looks at his friend’s back and chuckles.

“You’re in a bad mood, today.”

“When am I not?”

“Well, last week you seemed pretty alright when that one girl was talking to you. She really liked you, Bucky. What was her name, Jessica?”

“I couldn’t care less,” Bucky mumbles, putting the other weapons together again.

“Come on, Bucky.”

Bucky slams another gun down, louder this time. And it startles Steve.

“I said I couldn’t care less. Stop trying to hook me up with some girl, especially a child.” He says forcefully.

Steve stares at Bucky, mildly disappointed.

“You need to —”

Bucky spins around.

“I need to, what?”

Steve’s face falls.  
  
“You just—you can’t keep living like this, Bucky.”

Bucky gives his friend a disgusted look and rolls his eyes.

“Living like this? Steve, look at this. Look at this life we _are_ living _._ This is reality. This is my reality. I stopped living my real life eighty years ago, stopping lying to yourself. _”_ Bucky turns back around to face his guns.

Steve feels his heartbreak as he walks up behind Bucky. His eyes go to the guns and to Bucky’s metal hand that is slightly shaking.

“Is that what you really believe? That this is all you’re good for?” Steve asks quietly.

“We know it is,” Bucky mumbles under his breath.

He’s lost count how many times he’s had this same conversation with Steve.

“Bucky, you need to move on from her,” Bucky’s hand stills, “I know you still think about her. And I remember her just as much as you do. She was a sweet girl.”

Bucky stiffens.

“Don’t talk about her.”

Steve takes a deep breath.

“Fine, I won’t. But your life isn’t over. You’re very much alive. You’re also very much a man.” 

Bucky runs his hand over his face at his friend’s words.

“By the way, Jessica is thirty-one. Not a child.” Steve changes the subject as he takes one of the guns in his hands.

“A child to me.”

Steve scoffs.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Bucky senses the playful tone in his friend's voice and the edge of his lips perk up.

“What’s unbelievable is you suck at holding a Glock.” Bucky takes a small gun from his best friend’s hand.

Steve watches Bucky examine the gun, his right arm leaning on the table as he does so.

Steve looks over at the entrance and then back at Bucky.

“Fury says he found the new girl next to a man she had stabbed through the chest.”

“Lunatic.”

“The girl or Fury?”

“Both. How do we know to trust her? He just brought her in _willingly_? This isn’t a refugee camp.”

Steve takes a deep breath.

“He says she was hurt. She’s being looked at. He wants me to speak to her.” Bucky’s eyes furrow together and his hands slow down, “She told him she was trying to head south.” Bucky’s hand stills and he puts the weapon back down on the table. He gives Steve a confused look, “Yep. That’s what I said.”

“How crazy is this girl?” Bucky scoffs, but quietly.

“We don’t know yet,”Steve says.

“Age?”

Steve shrugs, “Mid to late twenties, maybe.”

“Do you think Fury wants her to join the camp? You don’t think Little-Miss-Sabster will ruin the mission?”

“As I said, Buck, I still need to speak to her.”

“I hope I don’t even get to see this girl’s face.”

\+ + +

Year: 1938

New York, New York

> _He did a double-take, and it was at that moment that he saw her sitting across the room._

_She was in the lounge area holding a martini with that gloved hand and she was talking to the guy who she had walked in earlier with. Except he was standing angrily and looking like he was moments from walking away from her._

_Bucky squinted his eyes as he noticed the man yelling and stomp his foot._

_He began motioning maniacally towards the primary stage and was yelling so loud Bucky could’ve heard him if it wasn’t for the loud music. The woman rolled her eyes and crossed her legs, revealing a long slit that ran up her dress. It was just enough skin for Bucky’s hand to get sweaty._

_He waited until the perfect opportunity when the man had walked towards the direction of the stage, making his way into the back behind the curtain. Bucky stretched out his arm and patted Steve on his shoulder._

_“Look, Steve, I gotta go do something. Keep the girls' company.” He added with a wink._

_Steve’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked between both girls. Both hilariously held the same look like him. Steve swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bouncing up and down._

_“What?” he squeaked._

_Bucky walked away, leaving three startled people behind._

_The blood rang in his ears on his walk over to the girl._

_Was he really doing this? He almost felt like his legs were just taking him, that he had mentally no control over what he was doing. He sees her take another confident sip of her drink and he swallows hard._

_He figured ma_ _ybe he should go back. He’s never felt so much nerve and yet conviction in his life._

_He had tunnel vision at this point. Everything around him was black and quiet except for her. It was as if there was a while halo around her form, asking for him to follow the light. No-fault of his own, he couldn’t even hear the three upset people calling after him as he walked away._

_Halfway to her, she had looked up mistakingly and caught his eye. He felt his heart explode in his chest but then falter when she looked away._

_Here we go again._

_She thought to herself._

_She smirked when he reached her. Her legs were still crossed and her eyes remained on her drink._

_“Ma’am.” He acknowledged her. She noticed the lack of confidence in his voice and tried not to cringe. His face went ghostly pale. He hated himself for letting his voice shake so much. It was silent for a good couple of seconds and he realized she would not look his way. He figured he might as well just head straight on instead of walking away saying nothing else. He cleared his throat, “I just wanted to tell you,” speaking was good, it showed more confidence, but he realized that he did not understand what he wanted to say. This never happened to him before. He went with honesty as he stared at her, “you look beautiful.” He breathed that last word while giving her a look over._

_It was honest; it was genuine._

_His flirting skills had completely gone down the drain and he knew it. He felt like he would throw up.She still didn’t look over at him, it was as if she’s heard that phrase a million times. He takes a step closer and clears his throat again before opening his mouth to say more, but no words come out, only a faint squeak._

_The lady takes a sip of her martini and swirls the olive around with the tip of her finger. She’s impressed with his move._

_Usually, guys come up to her and tell her she’s beautiful and then ask if she wants to go to his place, to which she denies because she’s disgusted. She wonders where this one will go with this. It’s not that she was cocky, she just knew this game too well. He had to be like all the others, right?_

_Bucky’s mouth is stuck as he watches her and mistakes her interest for complete disinterest._

_His lips would form more pickup lines, but now regret is itching at his throat and the awful pain of heartache. His mind shifts gears and instead of a pickup line he’s trying to come with an apology; he’s embarrassed. His face is still ghostly pale, and he’s about to walk away from this opportunity when a delicious sound leaves her mouth._

_Because that doesn’t always happen. the voice in her head says._

_He turns his feet to spin back around,_

_“Daisy.”_

_Bucky stops and his mouth is agape, and he’s never been more lost. He’s confused but also in love with the sound of whatever just left her mouth. He tried to fix his posture and make it seem like he knows what’s going on because the last thing he wanted to look like was an idiot._

_He even momentarily looks over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t speaking to someone else. The pearliest white smile fills her face as she uncrosses her legs and places her drink on the table in front of her. Her bracelet glistens in the dim light, as do her eyes._

_The moment his eyes meet hers, something happens across her face. Her muscles loosen and her mouth gapes a bit. His eyebrows knit together. It was almost as if she seemed to have gotten those same emotions he did when he first saw her step out of her ride. She clears her throat._

_“That’s my name.” Bucky is still shellshocked, but now his lips are peeking up at the sides into a smile. She chuckles at his nonresponse and motions forward with her hand as if for him to keep going, completely ignoring the heat in her cheeks and rapid beating in her chest, “I’d love to know yours as well.”_

_He’s about to speak when they hear a commotion coming from the backstage. He feels fear and jealousy in his gut and she notes it in his eyes when she notices where he was looking at._

_“Is that your—?”_

_“Brother.” Relief washes over Bucky and he lets out a chuckle. The edges of her mouth perked up. He was happy about that. And she was happy about this. “Are you usually this shy?”_

_The vintage Brooklyn accent was heavy on her voice now._

_Bucky shakes his head, “No. Never.” He says so confidently and quickly that she believes him. He isn’t new at this, “Just with you, ma’m.”_

_This comment alone completely takes away what’s left of the girl’s immense self-confidence and a deep blush creeps up her neck. Her earth tilts on its axis. She feels a weird tremble in her hands she’s never felt before and she knows what it is immediately. She examines his gorgeous eyes, his perfect jawline, and that boyish brown hair._

_She didn’t notice how gorgeous he truly was until that moment. Bucky takes another step forward and extends his hand._

_“Dance with me?”_

_Her lips twitch. Slowly moving towards the edge of her seat, she slides her white-gloved hand into his, a moment he and she would never forget, and he pulls her up slowly onto her feet. She can’t look away from his bright smile as he pulls her in._

_They don’t go out to where most of the people are, but they dance in that exact spot. If they were to be brutally honest, it wasn’t even dancing; they were swaying to The Way You Look Tonight._

_It’s those two minutes of silence that they both feel something they’ve never felt with anyone else before. It’s entirely magical and heart straining. She feels the heat of his front against hers and she wonders if he’s feeling the same powerful things she’s feeling. Because this wasn’t just any regular feeling, it was not lusting, and it wasn’t just attraction; it was something else. He had to feel it too or she wouldn’t be the same ever again._

_It was strange because he was a stranger. But it didn’t feel that way. This was different.It was the way he fit against her, just perfectly. Bucky breathes out a shaky breath as he brings her closer._

_He feels like he might pass out from such perfectness. He never knew such an innocent conversation and act could make him want to do so much- be with someone so much._

_She feels her heart hammering so hard in her chest that there’s a moment during the song where she’s bringing her gloved hand from his shoulder and up to the side of his neck. She was caught up in the moment, things were happening on its own; she no longer had control. His skin was perfect, she notes._

_Bucky’s eyes go wide at her move and he looks at down at her. She was touching his skin. He hoped that when he looked down, she would look back with that same confident attitude she seems to possess. But she’s not looking at him, she’s staring up at the stars were past the ceiling above them along with all the ten floors._

_She bluntly ignores his stare because she can’t believe what is happening. Maybe there was an answer in the heavens._

_He watches her intently, like a movie. If it was even possible, she was more beautiful this close. He can’t look away and she feels his eyes on her. They were boring into her soul. He wants to memorize this forever._

_She closes her eyes slowly and takes a deep breath because she feels like she might cry. He does the same and brings her in a little closer. His one hand ghosted inches over the skin of her back where her dress dropped, not sure if it would be appropriate or not to touch her skin there. He settled for her clothed waist instead and this makes her smile._

_A gentleman._

_His head is still tilted down, and she takes this opportunity to lean the side of her head against his, smiling faintly. He brings his face closer and looks down at her, their noses touching. She feels the side of his nose against hers and her eyes open. She’s staring straight down at his bottom lip and she gulps._

_This man was perfect, everything about this was._

_The song is about to close to an end when he brings his hand down her arm and passed her soft skin._

_He takes her fleshed hand and slowly intertwines their fingers._

_She gapes at this action, feeling his breath bounce off her face.She looks up at him from clouded eyes, lust taking over immediately._

_“James.” He answers low, in a husky voice._

_It takes a moment for her to register that that is his name._

_“James.” She whispers back like it’s a prayer._

\+ + +

Present

After your bowl of tomato soup and a glass of freshwater — without that canteen after taste — it was almost like the pain in your leg had gone away.

Apparently, your hunger and exhaustion had contributed to the pain, making it feel like it was worst than it really was. The nice girl had told you it was a muscle sprain, and after a week of it being wrapped and elevated, you would be just fine.

The bump on your head also wasn’t grave, just the right spot to make you blackout, but there seemed to have been no other damage to the physical eye.

And your hand was healing just fine, although she did give you some antibiotic ointment which you would need to reapply every so often.

You had asked her what this place was but she ignored your question and tended to you until her job was done.

You were too tired to pry, knowing you needed good rest- _real_ rest.

Your fingers grabbed at the blankets beneath you. _Cotton._

You hadn’t touched cotton in years; you hadn’t felt warmth and comfort in years. It felt surreal to you.

A sturdy walk of boots against grass startles you and you and the other patients in the tent look towards the man coming your way.

You practically _feel_ your eyes bug out of your head.

The man had a solid look on his face, one of determination and loyalty, yet he looked so peaceful.

How could you have expected anything else?

Captain America.

Was this really happening?

You felt the bed to your right sink down just slightly and your heart pace skyrocketed. You were nervous. What were you supposed to say?

If only Will were here.

“What’s your name?” He asks very quietly, obviously trying to keep the conversation as private as he could.

You played with your fingers and told him your name.

He nodded.

You’re expecting him to interrogate you about the man you killed. It wouldn’t surprise you, it was the Avengers. They probably thought you were a killer. An enemy- Hydra.

“Why are you trying to go to The Capitol?” The question sends many emotions through your body and you find yourself stiffening, “A lot of us here,” Steve motions to the air around the both of you, “we also have faith for the future. We would all love to take back our life and all the good things that came with it. Is that why you were trying to go? For a better life?”

You practically scoff at his question. The look Steve Rogers gives you is one for the books, and for a second you can see that look in his eyes. The look that said _You’re a traitor, aren’t you_?

You look away from him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to kill the man that made that place what it was. It was supposed to be a place of refugee and safety. It was never their plan for this to happen for all of this to happen and for what? To watch my parents die and for me to lose everything I had?” You shake your head to yourself in disbelief.

“What do you know about The Capitol?”

“It was my parent’s design,” you gave him their name and his face blanks for a moment and he stills, “… I’m their daughter. I’m sure you heard of me.”

Steve’s brows come together and then unravel again.

“I actually do. But I heard they worked for Hydra and that —” his eyes trail over your face, “you killed them. There was no solid way for us to trace anything back because the war happened soon after.”

You roll your eyes.

“My parents did _not_ work for Hydra. They were good people who wanted The Capitol to be a sanctuary. They were killed _by_ Hydra and their plans were stripped away. I’m going to The Capitol to kill the man that killed my family.” You say fiercely.

Steve looks at you shocked.

“You know who he is.” He says.

You nod.

“Yes.”

Steve runs his hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath.

“We’ve been trying to track it down for years, we could never find out who was the ring leader. We could never piece together who it was, but _you_ , you know who it is,” he says quickly.

You take a deep breath.

“I don’t know his name. Only his face.”

“You need to tell us what he looks like.”

His demand stops you for a moment. You consider telling him, that would mean The Avengers could finally deal with the right person. You consider it. But then you remember the anger you felt when you saw him killing your parents and you remember how personal this is.

It had to be you.

“No.”

Steve looks at you, mouth agape.

“Y/N, you need to tell us. We’ll help you.”  
  
“No, Captain Rogers. I need to do this.” You know he can feel your trembling hands as they on hold tightly to his arm.

He looks down at your hands and it’s like he senses your pain and your need for this.

“I get it,” he says, “I get the want, the need, to avenge, I do.”

“Then let me do this. Please.”

Steve’s eyes leave your hands and meet yours.

You can see the conflict of emotions in his eyes.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's finally meeting in the next chapter. ; )


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cursing.  
> Also, you will notice that some of Bucky's views on women are only a bit sexist when it comes to their role in a specific situation. I promise, it will change, but was essential to the storyline. You'll see what I mean when you read it. :) and this Bucky is TFATWS Bucky, so his hair is short again. And yes, Steve did NOT go back in time to P***y.

#  **5**

After you had made the mistake of outing to Captain Rogers about your plans to avenge your parents, he had wandered off somewhere, leaving you behind and alone with your thoughts.

You weren’t too sure if he was upset with you or if he sided with you.

It was really difficult to tell.

For all you knew, he could be preparing an arrest for you.

The longer you stayed in this clean tent, the more you started to suspect if this was some kind of new _avengers compound_. It was obvious this wasn’t a normal place looking for refugees, because there would be a lot more people.

But again, you knew so little. The only thing you were certain of is that you would milk your stay there as long as you could before continuing your trip back south. Not even the earth’s mightiest heroes would stop you. You would stay until your wounds healed and until you had enough strength.

You wished they hadn’t taken your pack away from you, but they had told you that it wasn’t of need.

That anything you needed they could provide you with.

You wanted your compass, the one Will had given you, and you wanted your damn spear.

It had only been a few hours since you arrived and you were already bored out of your mind.

As much as you wanted to wander around the camp and discover more of this mysterious place, you weren’t too sure if you were allowed that liberty. They hadn’t told you much of what you could and couldn’t do.

So you laid on your cot, playing with your bottle of antibiotics.

How had the Avengers manage to lose everything yet still keep certain things safe? You examined the opaque black bottle, noting that there was no writing on it anywhere. For all you knew, it could be some other kind of drug.

But they wouldn’t lie. They had nothing to gain from your death. Plus, you knew they weren’t infiltrated by Hydra like S.H.I.E.L.D once was. Hydra now only resided in The Capitol.

You’re twisting the bottle up and down and side to side when a motion from your peripheral makes you look up. Someone had entered the tent again.

Your eyes narrowed at the figure and your stomach lurched.

The man wore a black T-shirt, a leather jacket, jeans, and boots. If it weren’t for the silver sliver of metal as he rummaged through the medkit, you wouldn’t have known who this man was.

You always thought Bucky Barnes had longer hair.

This man didn’t look like the hot brainwashed assassin you had always seen on the news or in pictures. He looked younger, normal, dare you say; _hot_.

You felt a tight burning in your lower stomach as your eyes trailed down the bridge of his nose and along his perfect jawline; it was covered in a light layer of dark stubble.

You don’t know why you suddenly feel so attracted to him. You always harbored a small crush for The Avenger, almost every girl did, but it was always Steve that everyone wanted to kiss.

But now, after seeing both in person, you couldn’t fool your heart to not feel the way you were.

Bucky Barnes was exactly your type.

You felt your cheeks heat up and you forced yourself to look away from him. You tried your best to maintain your eyes on the bottle between your fingertips until the rummaging through the kit stopped.

When it did, you lift your eyes back up, thinking he had finally left so you could let the smile break out through your face.

Instead, you were met with piercing blue eyes.

Your eyes met for a long second. His face was blank and yours was surprised, but you knew you looked absolutely flushed. You felt it all over your body.

Thankfully, he quickly looked away again, and he seemed to have finally found what he was looking for.

He took it in his hand and turned the other way, walking out of the med tent.

\+ + +

Steve had stopped by later that night and handed you a pair of crutches and he asked you to follow him. Who were you to say no to Cap?

You followed him close behind as you walked through dead foliage and passed some of the fire pits. It was obvious most of the agents (you weren’t even sure if that’s what they were) had gone to bed, so the sound of cicadas and crackling fire echoed in the cool air.

You both must’ve passed about seven larger tents until you ended up in front of a large black one.

Steve opened the entrance for you, pulling it to the side so you could go in before him. You looked at him hesitantly before managing your way inside. You were careful to not trip as you entered the heated area.

You heard a commotion, a husky and deep voice.

“I don’t _want_ to be tied to a _fucking_ child, it’s a joke. I spent _two_ years, two —” the voice stopped as the source of it looked up from Fury and to you.

Bucky Barnes.

You felt the tent swing close behind you with a soft breeze and he snarled, his eyes meeting Steve’s above your shoulder.

“Bucky,” Steve greets his best friend.

You felt the tension heavy in the air as you looked away from that heavy blue gaze.

Jesus.

You heard rummaging of papers and then the heavy waft of air that smelled way too good. You looked back up only to see that Barnes was now gone.

Your eyes met Fury’s and it was then you noticed the others in the room, too.

If only Will could see you now. You felt the heavy tears deep in your throat as you remembered him.

If only he had survived just a few more hours, he would’ve been right there with you.

It almost seemed like some weird dream, but it wasn’t.

You were, in fact, in a room with Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, Sam Wilson, Wanda, and Bruce Banner. You were mildly disappointed, wondering where the others were. You felt slightly selfish for it and then you felt that pang as you remembered Black Widow’s and Tony Stark’s sacrificial death for humanity.

This tent was definitely a lot fancier than the others you had seen. From the outside, it would be hard to tell, but this one even had a large table and some tech you hadn’t seen in years, or even at all.

Now, you knew your gut was right, this really was the new Avengers Compound. How have more people not walked upon it?

“Miss, Y/L/N,” Banner says, motioning towards the large table, “Please take a seat.”

You maneuver your way to a random seat near the end of the table and lay your crutches on the side of it. Everyone else takes their appropriate seats, except for Fury who continues to stand, his hands in the pockets of his long coat.

You weren’t intimidated. No.

“So you want to go into The Capitol,” Fury says, pacing around the room.

You cross your hands on the table in front of you.

“What happened to your hand?” Sam asks, eyeing your bandage.

You clear your throat, feeling interrogated.

“I cut it while spearing for some fish.” Your eyes dart back to Fury and you wonder how much you should tell him. You had a plan, you didn’t want it to be ruined. This was your fight to win, “Yes, I do.” You tell him quietly.

“You’re quite ambitious to think you can take on a hundred thousand Hydra operatives on your own. You do realize that wall is guarded by eight hundred tanks, six fire missiles, two nukes, and five thousand men?” Fury says it like it’s the most factual thing in the world. You swallow thickly, not actually knowing _that._ He leans on his arms in front of you, “And what were you planning to do when, or should I say _if_ , you got inside? How far did you have this planned?”

You wouldn’t let him scare you. You were bigger than this interrogation.  
  
“Please, mister Fury,” it sounded weird, but you didn’t want to be rude, “I respect you, but I don’t want to be taunted for my lack of cowardice.” You slip in, flustered.

His one eye trembles.

“Tell me.”

You take a deep breath.

“My family wanted The Capitol to be a place where people could depend on for survival. Hydra knew about it for years and they had it planned for years to take over. They made sure of that when they had my parents killed, right in front of me. I know the man that did it, and for years, all I’ve wanted to do is take back what my parents wanted, however, that is, and by doing whatever it takes.”

He looks at you, bored.

“So you never had a solid plan?”

Your shoulder slump over, embarrassed.

“No.”

A heavy laugh leaves his mouth and the other avengers also look simultaneously unamused, and slightly bored.

Steve, on the other hand, looks a bit more upset and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“She knows what he looks like,” Steve says, strong and determined.

“That’s not enough, Steve.” Sam mumbles, pushing his chair away from the table, “She’s just a normal girl, she doesn’t have anything to offer us that could possibly hold a guarantee that she could take on an entire city dictated on Hydra. There is nothing concrete about this,” you try not to take any offense to Sam’s tone as it angers you, “She didn’t even have a plan. Her motives are reckless."  
  
This ticks you off.

“My motives are reckless? My parents were _killed_ in front of me. That is my motive.” You snap, “I’m not some child, I know what I want to do. I want to kill him.”

Wilson gives you a hard look.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but that’s called revenge. We don’t do that here. We can’t just run in there and start shooting people up.” Sam explains.

“I’m not trying to shoot people up, Mr. Falcon,” again, it feels weird, “I want him killed. Especially if that means the rest of that place falls down with him. You think I was just going to —” you curse yourself for giving away most of your plan, but damn it, “You think I was just going to barge in there, find him, and kill him? Of course not. I would take the information I needed first.”  
  
“And by doing what exactly? And for what?” Fury asks. He turns to Steve, “She has the drive, the determination, and she knows what he looks like, but she’s just a normal young girl. She’ll die in _seconds_ of stepping foot in the place if she were to run into a bad face. She has no skill, she doesn’t know what she’s doing, she’s not an agent, she’s _not_ superhuman.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what we need to win this,” Steve says as he stands up from next to you. You hear the heavy gravel under his chair as it scoots back/ His finger is down on the table as he continues, “she could be the mole, she could get the insight we need, she’d fit in perfectly because she’s _not_ enhanced. I think you are looking at her lack of abilities as a disadvantaged when it could be the exact opposite. We have all the other extra accessories, everything else Bucky and I have been working on for the last few years, _and_ the materials Tony left behind. We have the plan, she would just be the chess piece. We can train her just enough to where if she _needs_ to use certain tactics, she will be prepared. It’s obvious she isn’t afraid.”

“Bucky’s plan —” Wanda starts, retaliating.

“—is a good plan,” Steve cuts her off, “I know he worked hard on it. But this, _this_ is better. And she knows who he is. This is an advantage that we need.” Steve’s eyes go back to you as they soften, “we can train you. Bucky can train you,” his eyes go back to his teammates, “It’ll be them both. It’ll be a dual mission.”

Your heart falters at the mention of Bucky’s name again.

Everyone considers it, mumbling pros and cons among each other until finally, it’s settled.

They were going to discuss it farther and then Bucky would join to see if it’s a go.

For some reason, you had a feeling it wouldn’t go down smoothly. Steve’s expression only confirmed that.

\+ + +

They let you have your backpack back, which meant you could have your spear again. Its been two days since your talk with the team and you were starting to feel a bit excited.

It was like your fear of losing your fight for your parents was diminishing.

You had gotten close with Steve, which is something your old self never would’ve believed. He always seemed to seek you when you were alone or looked bored. It was his idea of building trust and communication with you. He was the one that handed you your backpack as you sat near the fire chewing on a piece of bread.

He sat next to you as he watched you sharpen your little weapon, amused.

You told him about Will that night and his face fell. You both started sharing stories.

He then started to tell you about how everyone here has lost someone that means a lot to them. You don’t know how it ended up in the general direction of relationships, but he let it slip that Bucky missed someone from his past, a woman.

This surprised you as your movements on your spear faltered.

He didn’t tell you much, just that her name was Daisy and she died when he had been drafted to England. Bucky was only twenty-three.

She was killed by Hydra. You asked him why he was telling you this and he smiled softly and told you that you should know that Bucky is also human.

You didn’t really get what that meant, but you nodded anyway.

“Look, Bucky’s tough. He’s got some issues when it comes to trust. He’s also got some inner demons. Very dark ones. He thinks he deserves less than this. He can be a bit brutal at times, but it’s his defense mechanism. I’m just saying this so you’re not afraid, but he’s a good man.”

“Okay.” Is all you can say to that.

You haven’t really met Bucky one and one yet, only sharing glances that made you feel things similar to what you felt in your teens.

A crush. You knew you were crushing hard the second you saw him. There was just something about him. The mention of Daisy made you a bit jealous, even if she was gone.

You also felt really bad for Bucky. It couldn’t be easy.

“I want you to do me a favor,” you look at Steve, intrigued, “when you both go over there, I want you to keep an eye on him for me. I want you to try your best to ease him into loving himself again,”

“I’m not a therapist, Mr. Rogers.”

“But you’re normal. He needs normalcy. Take it easy on him, be a friend. He’s been thinking about nothing but this mission for the last few years. When he’s there, I want him to think about the present. I need your help with that, too. Please.”

You give him a sympathetic look, his eyes are pleading and you feel for him.

“I’ll help you.”

Whatever that meant. Couldn’t be that hard, right?

Part of you wanted to help them, but part of you also wanted to still follow your own plan and tackle this whole thing on your own.

\+ + +

That next morning the sun shined a little brighter over the camp. You had been left a note on the table next to your cot to meet the team in the same tent from the other day.

Days of the week didn’t exist anymore either.

There was no Monday, no Thursday, no Saturday. It was simply “day”.

You brushed your teeth (yep, they had it all) and before you knew it you were on your crutches, waddling your way over to the large tent.

There was loud talking before you even stepped foot inside, and you already knew this was going to be _fun._

You took a deep breath and went inside.

Unlike last time, everyone was already sitting down. Their eyes shot up to you and their talking stopped abruptly.

Steve looked ecstatic to see you.

Bucky was sitting to his left, completely and totally unamused. Pissed, even.

“Sit here,” Wanda said with a small smile, motioning to the chair next to hers, directly in front of Bucky.

You gulped as his eyes trailed from you and to the chair.

You took your seat in front of him and tried to avoid contact, your cheeks already feeling hot just by his presence.

You smiled at everyone as a greeting and lastly, you decided to give Bucky one, too.

But he was turned away, his eyes looking down at the pen in his flesh hand.

Your smile fell, but you shook it off.

Steve said your name and began to speak, “We already briefed Bucky on the plan so we don’t need to repeat anything that was already said with you the other day.” He looked over at Bucky with a darting eye, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there, “and he promised he would cooperate with the changes made to the mission,” you watched intently as Bucky aimed the point of his pen down on the table, “and agreed that we will go through with it.” The ballpoint of the pen snapped in half from the force of his hand and you flinched for a bit.

Steve’s face became stern as he watched his best friend.

“So we wanted to go over what exactly the plan is and then from there, we’ll start your training. You’ll train for two weeks, under my supervision and Buckys'. We’ll provide you your equipment and everything you will both need, then you will start your travel down south. That should be about three days. The mission itself when you get into The Capitol will take about six months.”

Jesus.

“Are you _sure_ , we can’t stick to the original plan?” Bucky snapped, “Not that I’m not _fucking ecstatic_ about spending half a year with a kid, who could possibly screw everything up.”

“Bucky —” Bruce’s tone was a warning.

“and what the hell is that on her neck?” He spat like venom.

Suddenly very self-aware, you brought your hand shakily up to the back of your neck, “It’s — a tattoo.” You stuttered out.

Bucky scoffed.

As your eyes met his, it was like the crush you felt towards him quickly changed.

You still felt undeniably attracted to him, but now you felt hurt at the fact that he obviously looked at you like you were scum under his feet. What did you even do to him?

You felt your real side begging to jump out of your mouth, the one that could show him how strong you actually are. You wanted to snap at him.

But some reason it was so hard, especially when he looked at you like _that._

Like you were dirt. It hurt your feelings.

His eyes turned away from you and he looked up at Fury.

“Think about this.” He says to Nick.

“Take it up with Rogers, Barnes. This is how we’re doing this.”

Bucky practically seethed through his teeth.

“If she dies, that's on you,” Bucky spats, his voice strong, “If this mission is jeopardized, that’s on you. All of you.”

You try to keep your tears and dignity at bay, but it’s almost physically impossible when you start replaying the second you saw him for the first time and when your eyes met across the med tent in your head.

There was something there.

You couldn’t shake it, you weren’t crazy.

Among the rushing doubts and questions and different emotions swirling in your brain, two things were for certain:

One, you and Bucky would go undercover together for six months inside The Capitol. _Alone._

And two, he couldn’t stand you.

\+ + +

Year: 1938

New York, NY

> _To an outsider, the way he went about it at times appeared shallow and womanizing.Although, to the contrary, he didn’t want them for a night of lovemaking and then later throw them away like scrap._

_It was rare that he would ever consider a girl interesting enough to actually bring home. (Rare to a man-whore, that is.)_

_It was seeing the joy on their face while they had a great time that brought him a feeling of satisfaction.He loved to show them a wonderful time._

_Bucky loved sex, and he’d root to have it as much as he could, it was one of his favorite things. But he respected it. To him, and most men, ladies were too precious and innocent to know anything of the war. They were a lady and had to be treated as such._

_He genuinely enjoyed that mental break when he was around them, not having to speak of the war or anything they couldn’t handle._

_He just wished Steve was similar and not always thinking about them damn nazis._

_He loved seeing Steve relish in patriotism for his country and he definitely loved and respected how courageous he was, but if not being careful and without being realistic, he was bound to get himself killed. He wished that just for a second, Steve would lay back and have some fun like a normal young man._

_He didn’t understand why Steve didn’t know that you don’t always have to fight back._

-

_“James.” He answers low, in a husky voice._

_It takes a moment for her to register that that is his name._

_“James.” She whispers back like it’s a prayer._

_She’s silent as she stares at his face as if she was allowing this moment, this feeling, and his name all to sink in at once at its own pace. She could feel herself trembling underneath his gaze and she wanted it to never stop._

_He wasn’t batting an eyelash, but just staring into her blue orbs. It was as if the tremor that left her somehow entered his own heart because he pulled her in closer with a small gasp.She hadn’t realized their hands were still tightly intertwined, and she swears she feels him squeeze when she pulls away._

**_Don’t._ **

_She wasn’t pulling away to get away but just leaning back on her heels to take a deep breath. She blinked wildly, her gaze drifting from his eyes to his lips and back again._

_His eyes were pleading. This couldn’t be over. She pulls her face away just far enough to where she can finally take in a deep breath._

_Bucky is about to pull her in close once more since their hands are still attached, but her hand is sharply removed out of his, leaving them both cold and empty. It was a harsh slap and what was once the sound of just their breathing and heartbeats, was now a yelling and the loud commotion of the club on an average night._

_She literally feels like she was ripped out of his arms. Bucky’s eyes quickly dart up to the intruder and he’s about to say something when Daisy quickly backs away from her brother, her gloved hand going straight to his chest and pushing him away._

_She takes a moment, but her gaze finally adjusts._

_Her brother takes her hand and holds it against him, “Robert’s a sleazing liar, Daisy. If dad finds out about this, we’re both dead. Les’ just get out of here before they get onto us.” Daisy’s silent, her mouth still agape. Emotions from moments ago are still washing through her system and she barely has anything else left to react to her brother’s statement._

_She could honestly care less bout what was supposed to go down tonight anymore._

_She looks over at Bucky. Her brother follows her eye flicker and looks back at Bucky and then back to her. He lets out an exasperated chuckle and points at Bucky with his thumb, “Who’s this? Another one of them twits, Daisy? Imma lay a hand on him. You know these guys want nothin’ but one thing. Let’s go. Now.” Her brother pulls her behind him._

_Once he’s about to pass Bucky, he shoots him a dirty look._

_“Suggest you get out of here, pal,” he says._

_Daisy looks like she’s about to cry as she pulls up the side of her dress to not trip behind her brother._

_He’s rough as he pulls her behind him towards the exit._

_“Jimmy, you gotta wait. You’re gonna’ make me fall!”Jimmy rudely lets go of her and watches as she takes a deep breath and dusts off her dress._

_Bucky is still voiceless, trying to process his heart’s emotions and what the hell was going on._

_Suddenly, Daisy runs back to a table by the lounge where she was sitting at previously and grabs a random straight pen that she remembered had been carelessly left behind by someone else.She silently thanks heaven for it. Both Bucky and Jimmy look at her speechless as she grabs Bucky’s limp hand in hers and starts writing quickly._

_Bucky winces at the object’s sharp edge against his soft skin._

_“Hell. Come on, Daisy.” Jimmy rolls his eyes._

_She closes Bucky’s hand and gives him one last emotional look that said too much yet not enough before she runs out with her brother._

_Bucky looks down at his closed hand, heavy emotions still crashing through his body._

_Slowly he opens it up revealing 5 small yet powerful words that he knew would change everything. He smiles softly to himself._

**_Brooklyn. 8._ **

**_-_ **

_His feet took him to a place he’d been to every day since he’s lived in Brooklyn. Although this time, this day, it was insanely different._

_He couldn’t imagine that he had been awake right now. Everything felt too surreal. He couldn’t believe that he had the balls of steel to actually walk up to her._

_Thank god he did because whatever was felt between him, he knew it was what he was looking for his entire life._

_Daisy._

_The sides of his lips twitched as he let out a long sigh. He walked back and forth between the same building in dumbo and ran a hand through his soft hair, pulling slightly at the ends.He was trying his best to calm down even though he knew he had a good hour until it was eight. He wasn’t sure he could wait._

_He didn’t know what to say when he would see her again. This was probably a stupid question, but did she like him? What was the commotion back at the club with her brother? What was she planning on doing with him when she met up with him?_

_There were so many questions going through his head and not nearly enough answers. He didn’t know if he was scared or anxious, all he knew was he wanted it to be 8 o’clock already. He was thankful that the rain had stopped a while ago; the pavement was now mostly dry but some mist was still dangling through the air by it being pulled up from the puddles by the wind. He found the driest corner of a building that he could find, and he sat there. He rested his arm on his knee and looked around._

_Deep in the Hudson below was soon to be the bridge, what Daisy had been referencing to. He looked at the pieces of sharp metal rising from the deep river, up into the air. It was massive and terrifying._

_When the wind would blow through the iron-steel it would make a haunting howling sound that sent shivers up his arms. He didn’t get it. It was only recently that people had expanded the city upwards._

_There weren’t that many tall buildings in New York until a few months ago. It was only seven years ago that they finally finished the Empire State Building, and even that was some getting used to. He thinks they even made some movie about it._

_He looked at the skyline from across the river, that beautiful building standing tall, lighting up the sky. A sense of sadness overwhelms him suddenly as he remembers the events of the day._

_It’s not common that he gives himself moments to allow himself to reminisce and feel. He reaches into the chest pocket of his dress shirt and pulls out a small locket with a chain. He clicks it open, revealing a small beat-up black-and-white photo of his family. His little sister Rebecca stood in the front by his side._

_He admired her cute short brown hair and her brown eyes. She was always a sweet little girl, anything would make her laugh, and her laugh was always genuine and contagious. Bucky frowns.She was so heartbroken when her mom passed away. Seeing Rebecca sad was not something he liked to think about, ever._

_Bucky frowned as he passed his thumb over her picture. He hasn’t seen her since they got separated back at Camp Lehigh before returning to Brooklyn one last time. He wondered how she was doing. He wondered if she knew about dad._

_He feels a tight pang in his chest and sighs._

_Two out of the three people he loved the most were all dead._

_He looked back at the skyline before shoving the locket back in his pocket, refusing to look at his mother and father._

_He took in the cool air and let the wind momentarily flick his hairs onto his forehead. He closed his eyes tightly together and took a deep breath._

_Shit, for all I knew I could be next._

_He hoped things would change now that he met Daisy._

_Maybe he wouldn’t have just one person left that he could love._

_Maybe God was giving him another chance._

\+ + +

Present

Bucky watches you from across the field as you sharpen that damn spear, again.

He hopes you don’t plan on taking that thing with you on the mission.

That thought only angered him even more. How could they do this to him? He had everything planned, he had put together a great team that would take on this mission. But, no, instead he has been betrayed again.

Not just that, but he was being told he would have to only one partner and that that would be _you._

He won’t lie, the second he saw you for the first time, he knew immediately who you were.

You were pretty and you held a certain aura that he couldn’t pinpoint. It was obvious that you were what the people referenced to these days - a fucking millennial.

Your haircut, your attire, the way you carried yourself, and the fact that you had killed a man straight through the chest as if it was nothing.

He remembers when he was your age, eighty-some years ago.

Things were different.

There was no technology back then like there was now, and people held more respect.

Sure, things were post blip and post-apocalyptic now, so there was the benefit of the doubt, but he still knew how people your age were.

Your generation.

You took everything for granted; your liberty, your food, your _family._ You didn’t know what suffering was or what real war looked like. You didn’t know what hell was.

And most importantly, you were a lady.

You were supposed to be The Protected, not The _Protectee_.

What was wrong with you? You would die.

Women were supposed to know nothing of war or murder. You weren’t supposed to want to kill. That was something else he never understood about your generation, that and your impulse for crude language.

He tried not to blame his horrible view on things on Daisy. He tries not to blame her for never wanting to find anyone else ever again. He tries not to blame himself for ‘killing’ a girl that was so pure.

He watches you as you sharpen your spear with a small smile on your face.

His jaw tightens and his teeth clench.

He was dreading this mission.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so happy you guys are enjoying this. I love you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Language, very brief mention of sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *re-uploaded chapter due to some minor changes*

#  **6**

You tried not to pay too much mind to the set of blue eyes that were literally digging into your soul in thorough disapproval. 

Up until a day ago, you thought you were able to bear his presence, you had thought:

_yeah, sure, he’d come around, just give him a few days._

But it was like he chose every opportunity he could to either critique or attack you and you don’t think you could stand one more day of him critiquing you for absolutely _no reason at all._

He didn’t have a reason to attack you as much as he did and you knew it. 

It pissed you the hell off.

You were sweating profusely as you swung a left fist into the heavy bag that hung from the bark of a large tree. 

Your arms were already burning, and the stings stretching from your knuckles and into your palms where your fists were tightly clenched.

Your feet were planted shoulder-length, your posture straight and your elbows at your sides.

Bucky was staring at your arms like he would rather be somewhere else, his eyes occasionally drifting back towards the camp, his sharp jaw tightening.

He was judging you without even having to say a word and it made your skin itch.

You were giving fantastic punches, you knew they were great because it wasn’t the first time you’ve trained like this. 

You had some knowledge in the area after one summer when you randomly took a kickboxing class at your gym. So you knew you weren’t _that_ bad. 

At least not as bad as he was making you out to be.

“You know what a punch is?” Bucky’s voice was taunting, mockingly even. It angered you. 

You looked over and he stood off to the side, a bored look in his eyes. 

His arms were crossed over his chest. His arms were flexed and his muscles were begging to burst through his tight grey Henley.

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you stepped back from the bag and stood down. You dropped your arms down by your sides, sore.

Did he even have the slightest clue of how tired you were or how much your body was burning?

You tried to keep your temper controlled.

“I’m doing a pretty good job. This isn’t my first time like you might think.” You mumbled the last part under your breath, tightening the tape around your knuckles.

“I don’t think anything, I don’t even give you a second thought.” He snapped at you.

Your eyes darted to his, shocked at his hostility. 

He somehow always found a way to make it personal. Always.

He quirked his head to the side as if wondering what you would say next, yet his eyes were empty and lacked any real emotion. 

You couldn’t believe that you ever found yourself attracted to him. 

It was clear he hated you and was out to get you.

It made no sense. 

“Why are you here?” You ask him breathlessly. He doesn’t answer, his stance wide and trying to appear domineering, “You don’t have to be here, I’m sure Captain Rogers could train me without your help.”

Bucky took a step towards you, the dry foliage cracking under his boot. 

He looked down at you with the same expression he’s been able to hold for the last half hour, not even flinching. 

You tried to ignore the static you felt on your skin as the heat of his own body radiated towards you.

You tried to ignore the hitch of your breathing.

“Trust me, I would rather be doing anything else.” His eyes darted all over your face - from your eyes to your cheeks and to your feet, skipping everything between - and it didn’t take long for you to realize he was looking at you searching for answers, “They told me you want to kill the man who killed your mom and dad, and that he’s supposedly the ring leader we’ve been searching for. But I just find it a bit suspicious that Hydra wanted them killed.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused and thrown off by his lack of knowledge.

“They didn’t tell you?” His blank expression, which is briefly broken by a brief flicker of something _weak_ in his eyes, makes you smile slightly, “my parents are the one that built The Capitol. They built the wall; they built it all.”  
  
You were expecting a raised brow, anything that suggested surprise or any indication that he was at least intrigued by your statement: Instead, he looked furious, and his jaw twitches as he clenched his teeth.

He took a step closer to you.

“Oh really? They built that place?” His voice was a low rumble, “The place where freedom seizes to exist? They built that fucking jail cell?”

Your eyes blurred over with tears at his hurtful words. How dare he? How dare he say such vile things, things that weren’t true? Your parent’s wall was not a jail cell. It was anything but.

He saw your eye fill slightly with tears but he doesn’t budge. Of course, he wouldn’t.

He was made of hard, cold stone.

You gave him a short nod, furiously removed your boxing tape, and angrily tossed it by his feet.

You walked away and didn’t even bother to look back and see if he was still watching you. 

\+ + +

“Captain Rogers, when you told me I’d be training, I really thought it’d be a little more Avengers-y.” 

Steve sat next to you on your cot. He had just finished going over with you some important details about the mission that you shouldn’t forget. 

After your comment, he raised a brow and smiled.

“Avengers-y?”

You shrugged.

“Yeah, I don’t know, like cool superhero stuff. Not punching bags, espionage, and learning self-defense. Something _you_ can teach me.” Steve picked up on your emphasis and his brows furrowed together.

“Is Bucky giving you a hard time?” He asks seriously.

You look down at your hands in your lap. How would you even go about this situation? It was confusing even to you. Part of you wanted to get over it, because you’ve been through worst with bullies at school, but you also didn’t like that this could potentially affect your plan to avenge your parent’s life. This was different.

So you snitched.

“I don’t want to seem stubborn or go back on our agreement, but he’s so difficult to deal with,” you played with the sleeve of the black Avengers thermal top that had been given to you, “And he seems to have some vendetta against me. More now that he knows my parents built The Capitol. I was able to handle the first few days, but for the rest of the week? I don’t think I can handle it.”

Steve took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face. He surprised you when he stood up and offered you his hand to help you up.

“We’re gonna go out to the field, come on. Bring your coat. You’ll show me what you know up to now.”

And you did. Every damn kick, punch, word diversion, and interrogation method.

Steve shouted out scenarios and you answered with how you would react to each one, either physically or verbally. 

You acted it out with him, and you were able to nail down every mediocre move that was taught to you over your training. 

You were surprised you were even able to nail half of them when Bucky hadn’t assisted you via physical touch at all through the whole training process. 

It was almost like he didn’t care about your part in the mission.

He had instead just shouted instructions at you, but thankfully because of some past knowledge, you knew what he was talking about.

You had wished Steve trained with you the last few days instead of just Bucky, but Steve had been too occupied with intel information. 

Watching you now, he regrets it, because even though you knew the things you were supposed to, it was obvious you hadn’t trained the self-defense part with another body.

But you didn’t suck.

Sure, you weren’t a pro, but you were not incompetent. 

This made Steve furious as he found himself walking towards Bucky’s tent later that night after he had dropped you off. 

Steve once again barged into his best friend’s room, talking before Bucky could even sit up straight from his own cot. 

He could tell Bucky was about to retaliate as a concerned look filled his face but Steve was not having it. 

He was upset; disappointed.

“Bucky, what the hell is wrong with you? What are you doing to that poor girl?” As soon as Steve said the last part, Bucky’s face turned into a heavy glare.

“What, did she ask you to come here and save her precious reputation?” Bucky mumbles, running a hand up through his dark brown hair.

“Will you stop?” Steve shouts, making Bucky take a step back.

“Steve…” Bucky started surprisingly soft, “Look, I just want to make sure she knows what she’s doing. What she’s getting into.”

  
Steve closed his eyes tightly together and took a deep breath, not buying his friend’s excuse. 

When Steve opened his eyes, Bucky could see the aggravation in them.

“I asked her to show me everything that you told her she wasn’t doing correctly,” Bucky looked away, his tongue poking the side of his cheek, “And she did them, Bucky. She did them and they were fine. She’s doing fine.” Bucky scoffed as he walked away from Steve and towards the corner of his tent where he had some spare clothing, “I don’t know what you have against her, but you need to stop.”

“I’m sorry, but to me, one punch at a bag and an elbow to the gut is not fine. Clearly me and you have different expectations.”

“Coming from a man who won’t even touch her in order to teach her.” Bucky’s jaw tightened again, “She’s fine for someone who has little to no experience in this field. For two weeks, with an injured leg and hand, I’d say she’s doing pretty dang okay.” Bucky paid no ear as he continued to rummage through his clothes. Steve shook his head in disappointment at his friend, “Maybe she’d even be better if you actually cared.”

\+ + +

Jessica. 

That was the nice girl’s name who tended to your injuries. The one with the pretty button nose, tan skin, and silky black hair.

You were shocked when you discovered she was older than you. By her young appearance, you had figured you were both around the same age.

Apparently, she had been a S.H.I.E.L.D agent during the heilicarrier attacks and was one of the survivors. 

She never went to school for nursing, but instead, it was something she had to learn along the way since the Avengers Compound was in dire need of more help after the fall. Bruce was a great medical professional, but it wasn’t enough. 

Not after the war.

After Hydra had taken in any health official under their wing and into The Capitol, people were left to fend for themselves. Hydra didn’t take anyone from the avenger’s compound who had any medical experience, nor any of the scientists. Instead, they rigged the medical bay with bombs and explosives, not wanting to risk trusting any of them to bring them into The Capitol.

The ones like Jessica, former agents, and soldiers, had to learn from abandoned medical books and hospitals that weren’t blown to pieces. 

After your leg and hand had healed, you were comforted by the fact that she still stuck by your side. No longer as your nurse, but your friend. 

Honestly, if it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have picked up certain espionage tactics that Bucky hadn’t even bothered showing/teaching you. 

She had taught you them. Was nothing big, but just some pointers and helpful tips.

The closer you were to your departure date, the more anxious you were feeling, and she caught on to that fairly quickly. She had distracted you by giving you a tour of the camp, sharing little funny stories along the way about some of the agents. 

Steve had been very happy to see both of you together one day when he had glanced over on his walk to the main tent.

You liked these people, you really did, and fuck how you wish you didn’t like Bucky. 

You couldn’t help but remember the things Steve had told you, about how Bucky is actually a great guy. 

You hoped it was true. Maybe that was the strand of hope you still held on to.

Jessica was showing you some area of the camp you hadn’t seen yet when your heart clenched in your chest.

“I appreciate the tour, but I highly doubt I’ll be back here when the mission is over. I’m no superhero, let alone, an agent.”

Jessica gave you a small smile.

“I highly doubt that. If, _when_ , you guys complete this mission, I am more than certain you’ll be back here. It’d be stupid to let you go.”

You sighed at the mention of you and...your partner. 

“He doesn’t like me very much. I’ll be happy if I at least make the six months without him killing me.”

You meant it to be a bit playful, but she can sense in your tone that most of it is actually true. You were being serious.

Jessica furrowed her brows at that. She was genuinely concerned.

“Bucky Barnes is an interesting guy.“ Jessica’s footsteps halted and you stopped, too. Her eyes became solemn and her voice was gentle as she continued, “Part of me can’t help but think that underneath that tough skin and assholeness, that he actually wishes he could enjoy his life now. I feel like even though he still thinks the same in regard to certain topics in the forties,” your brows came together at that, you never even thought about _that_ , “it’s mostly just because he misses Daisy.” She adds with a shrug.

You felt a tremble in your heart at the mention of his former lover. 

It was obvious that Daisy had become semi-public knowledge. 

You wondered how serious they had been. You had only been in love one time and it was when you were fifteen, but you got over it quickly. 

A dark cloud enveloped you and you thought about how all his negative emotions could be pent up emotions that he just won’t submit too, or admit to himself.

He had lost someone he loved, romantically.

“He’s heartbroken. Wouldn’t be surprised if the reason he’s not afraid of losing or risking it all is that he’s holding onto some kind of hope of seeing her again, wherever that might be.”

Her words chilled you to the bone.

Was it possible that the reason Bucky was this hateful person was that he’s being tormented by love? A love he can no longer have?

You felt instant pity, and you wondered if it was really possible that no one else had crossed his mind since then.

But he probably never really had the chance to, anyway. Life as an ex brainwashed assassin and then Avenger probably made dating a bit inconvenient.

“When do you think is the last time he had sex?” You don’t mean to sound to crude.

Jessica raised a brow at your question and an amused smile traced the edges of her lips, trying not to smile.

“I don’t know. Seventy years ago? With all that pent up frustration. Wouldn’t surprise me.” She shrugged, “Although, I did hear some rumors about him and some Wakanda girl a few years back, before the snap. But I think that was just some fling. I don’t even know if they slept together. He seems to hold onto that part of himself for some reason.”

\+ + +

It was the night before the departure. 

It was the first week of February and that night the air was colder than usual. You wondered about tomorrow and how you and Bucky would confront the winds and air outside this mini safe place. 

Were you prepared? Physically, yes. Mentally? No.

This had been a huge mission in the making, something everyone had been waiting for, so they decided to celebrate yours and Bucky’s last night with a small gathering around a discreet fire pit in the middle of the camp.

Some people were talking among themselves, laughing. Sam and Steve were off to the side, the other avengers were scattered about and chatting. 

Most were discussing last-minute details about the mission.

This was a big deal.

Your belly grew tight with nerves, feeling the pressure that was on you.

You knew you should feel ready, but you wished it was easier. You wished your relationship with Bucky was easier. This whole thing would depend on both of you in order for it to be successful.

He sat directly across from you, on the other side of the fire, and he was trying to overturn a rock that was in the pit with a very long stick. 

You could tell his mind was on overdrive, and part of you almost felt bad. 

Especially after what Jessica had told you.

You watched as he gave up on the rock, threw the sick on the ground, got up sharply, and started walking away.

He was deliberately ignoring your presence, again. Your teeth came together hard.

This bothered you. 

You had done _nothing_ wrong to him, ever.

You were going to be stuck together for six months. You had to at least attempt to solidify trust and diminish his distaste for you. You had to.

He was halfway towards his bunker when you finally caught up to him and called out his name.

“Bucky, wait.”

He froze at your words. His back was turned towards you and you could only imagine that his face held a heavy glare.

“What?” He snapped.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose your emotions as much as possible. 

You walked closer to him and he eventually turned around, giving you a look that clearly told you to make it quick.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you, you’re my teacher and I should have more tact. I let my emotions get the best of me.”

Bucky barely blinked an eyelash at your words.

And that was it.

He turned back around to walk away again. He had walked a couple of extra feet before you just about had it and your temper broke. 

_Are you kidding?_

You didn’t want your abrasive side to show. Not for the sake of losing face. But now you were annoyed. You didn’t like when people thought you were weak, or that they could step over you.

“Are you joking?” Your voice was sturdy as it called out into the night, and your face felt like it was on fire from anger.

He stopped again, silent.

You stormed your way up to him and when it was clear he wasn’t going to turn around, you walked around his body until you were eye to eye.

His eyes were shooting daggers at you.

“I don’t understand what your issue with women, or girls my age, but I’m not it,” he tilts his head at you, “Stop taking your anger out on me. I’m not here to harm or jeopardize anything. _They_ brought me in. And if _this_ , spending the next half a year alone with you, is the only way I can get into the damn place and give my parents the justice they deserve, I’ll take it. You won’t get in my way and you won’t stop me.”

Bucky quirked a brow at your mini-speech and then looked away from you with an amused scoff.

“Issue with women?” He asks.

Your eyes faltered away from a second. 

“Yeah, I’m starting to think you’re a sexist asshole who is still stuck in nineteen forty-five.” 

The look Bucky gave you was almost comical. You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t have anything against women,” he says sharply, his voice grows stronger with each word, “My team that I had prepared, for _years, years,_ before you even showed up here,” he motioned outwards with his flesh arm, “with your little face, was _filled_ with them. Good, strong, _smart_ women. I had a good team. Sure, my opinions are a bit more traditional but I believe in freedom and equality,” Bucky stepped up closer to you, his face was in a snarl, “What I don’t believe in is girl’s like _you_ , who think that just because they have a motive or want to make a difference they can just swoop in and change years of hard work and research, for a selfish gain. Girls like you who don’t realize how hard it actually is out there. All that and not realizing what they are actually getting themselves into. This is fucking war, you’re a child and you know nothing of it. Maybe you’re not that young in your years, but mentally you are. You know nothing, so you need to stay out of it.” He watched as you swallowed thickly, “I don’t want to work with you. Get that through your head.”

Bucky watched as hot tears filled your eyes. He didn’t even bat an eyelash as he walked around you.

You felt insulted and you felt so little. 

As your throat grew tight and sore from trying to hold down tears, you thought of your family and you reminded yourself of your goal. You reminded yourself of what Will had told you.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say when Bucky’s already back on his way to his destination, “and you need to respect me. Because I know what I’m doing.” Your voice shook towards the end and it quickly gave away your naiveness. 

You were shocked when you hear his response, expecting him to be gone by now.

“I don’t need a girl like you telling me what to do,” his voice is low and monotone, “I’ve lived through things you can’t even imagine. I’m doing this because I want Hydra gone. They destroyed my life, and hopefully, after they’re destroyed I can bury myself, six feet under.”  
  
His answer shocks you and you grow frigid.

You slowly turn around, stunned. 

He’s staring right through you in the dark night, and for the first time since you met him, he’s wearing an emotion that’s isn’t completely unreadable.

This right here was Bucky showing you his true colors, his true emotions.

Your heart almost tore in half at the desperation in his eyes. 

You half expected your voice to sound as broken as it did when you began speaking again.

“It’s— it’s a kamikaze scheme,” you blinked quickly, not wanting to see the confession in his eyes, “Your plan.”

Bucky nor denied or rejected your claim.

He simply looked away from the spot above your shoulder.

“I just want you gone.”

As you watched him walk away, this time you let him. 

Your emotions were all over the place as you watched the broken man, wondering what you could do to save him from himself.

But you would leave that for the next three days, as you both moved south through the torments of hell and survival. 

You needed rest.

You had a feeling these next six months were going to be emotionally intense. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, plot is a-brewing :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of Bucky's inner feelings towards Y/N gets revealed on their first day on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely reviews. I am so happy you are all trusting me to bring you a new story. I hope it'll continue to bring you joy and entertainment. I love you guys so so much. I also wanted to let you know that I've gone back into chapter 1, and if you scroll to the bottom, you will see I added a link to the mood boards. There you will find pictures like Reader's or Bucky's outfits and life in The Capitol. I've also added links to the trailer and soundtrack. :) I've also uploaded a Schedule for my updates on my Tumblr if you wanna check that out. *Chapter songs links are at the end of the chapters*

#  **7**

STEVE was the one who tightened your velcro backpack around your small shoulders as you stared into the rising sun behind the blowing trees. It must’ve been a little after 5 AM, since the orange clouds were beginning to mix in with the dark blue of a new sky, announcing the arrival of a brand new day.

Today was the first day of your mission with Bucky, and to say you were fixated on your ultimate goal was an understatement.

The camp didn’t have a running shower, but they had a secluded and private area off to the side that provided warm water and some soap made with lye and lard. The water had to be heated up overnight by an attended fire and then left for an hour before you had to get ready to let it cool down.

When one of the girls had handed you the freshly made bar, the look she gave you scared you.

She had a certain fear in them that you couldn’t quite place and it shook you to the bone.

Was she unhopeful for your return?

When you had entered the little shower, which was just four pieces of wood tall enough to cover your most intimate areas, and you dunked your mud cup into the warm water, you definitely felt like you were being prepared like a sacrificial lamb.

You felt like you were being cleansed and prepared for death.

But as you rinsed away the lye off your skin, and you shuddered against the cold winter air which was beginning to feel like sharp knives, you quickly shoved those thoughts away.

You had to focus on your goal and what it was you were actually being prepared for. This was your opportunity to give your parents what they deserve; the outcome they would want.

After your shower, you quickly dried yourself off with a long and grey rag that had been draped over the “door” for you, and you slid your arms into your heavy coat.

Quickly, to avoid getting the flu that could potentially kill you faster than any other virus ever could, you ran into your tent and slid on your attire.

It was the same one you had worn before you arrived, but Jessica had been extremely kind to you and had it washed and folded stacked neatly next to your cot.

After you zipped on your boots, Steve had shown up and ran the information with you before your departure.

None of you knew exactly how life in The Capitol was.

There had been just one agent who had ever been close enough, and it had been about a year ago.

Bucky had sent Sharon to collect information that would be vital to help their mission, including how the people in The Capitol dressed, how they wore their hair, how they behaved, and if they used any kind of special currency.

Apparently, the clothing they wore, you would have to buy when you got there. It would be possible for the camp to try and knit them so that when you arrived you would fit in right away, but unfortunately, it would not protect you during the three-day walk to get there.

There was nothing different regarding hair or currency, which was a very helpful piece to learn. It meant you and Bucky would not need to go under any crazy makeovers.

Any specific makeup look or hairdo you preferred, you were free to do as you pleased when you arrived.

The only tricky part of getting into The Capitol and not being caught was your identification.

Anyone who resided within The Wall carried a hologram ID that presented your picture, name, resident number, and occupation.

If there was anything Tony Stark left behind, it was his knowledge and technology that had been left behind and protected.

You don’t know how they managed to save nearly all of it from the war and the bombing, but you didn’t ask questions. It didn’t surprise you that the avengers would go through such measures to have a legacy and vital equipment protected.

It had been just enough for Bruce to take it into his own hands and build an almost identical replica of the hologram ID that you and Bucky would need to present in order to do simple tasks like request a hotel room or enter an important building.

You didn’t take Bruces’ hard work for granted; apparently it had taken almost a year and a half just for him to make them.

It would still be a risk when you used your identification because even though your resident number was chosen with an advanced Linux method if it were to hit a miss in Hydra’s system, you and Bucky could be screwed.

Your arrival in the city would simply be accepted by luck.

Steve continued to tighten your backpack as he reminded you of what would happen when you and Bucky both arrived there.

First and utmost important, you would need to find a place to live. According to Sharon, there was a residency area not too far from the center of the city. You would go there and try to get a room.

Next, you and Bucky would need to discover your surroundings.

What was Hydra doing there? Where is Hydra’s main building? Were there anyone there that could possibly be there against their will? How did The Capitol work? What was life there like?

You would then need to set up your false identity, which would be the majority of the mission.

Once you both found where Hydra’s main focus was and from where they worked, you would need to find your way in. You would need to gather as much intel and information about everyone as much as you could.

That is when the team had presented you with an additional ID card, except this one was physical and just a regular white laminated card.

It was a resumé and well thought out employment card, which you and Bucky would use to apply at a Hydra Facility (but not the same one to not induce suspicion). This was an important key to the mission that both you and Bucky were reluctant on participating on, but after much consideration, it was concluded it was essential to winning this.

After you found out everything you both needed to know, after the six months, you would both escape and return to camp with the intel and information gathered that could successfully bring The Capitol’s society down.

One of them being the ring leader’s location. It would be important to the mission to not have anything destroyed, especially The Wall.

This was the part of the mission you did not like.

Because you would not leave The Capitol without having that man from the diner killed.

Part of you felt bad for secretly planning how to divert the avenger’s plan, but at the same time, you now knew that Bucky was also planning something that could potentially shock everyone.

You considered saying something to Steve as he made sure you had everything in your pack - food, blankets, med kit, and a gun with a silencer (the only thing you were allowed) - but you went against it as you remembered your promise to him.

He wanted you to help Bucky love himself again and to feel like he was meant for something more.

As you both walked out of the tent and fully into the outside world, right away you saw Bucky already strapping his own bag over his shoulder.

You know his bag held the same things yours did, except his held a military gun that would serve to protect you during the walk.

Unfortunately, you would not be allowed to take any weapons with you into the city. They would be left dug into a hole and abandoned.

Your heart skipped in your chest as you observed his dominating aura.

He wore attire similar to yours, except a male version. He had a black coat with a hood that strapped across the front of his chest. Attached to it was a hood similar to yours. You could tell he had layers of clothing under his jacket for protection, and his pants were thick and tucked into heavy boots.

A pair of leather gloves covered his hands. He was tightening the one over his metal arm when he looked over at you.

His eyes were dark and his teeth clenched as he looked you up and down. You quickly looked away and back at Steve.

Steve was tightening your tracker around your wrist.

“Remember, this will only keep you off their radar for ninety seconds and it can _only_ be activated twice. You can only use it when you enter and leave the city,” you were in a daze as you felt the need to look up at Bucky again. The pull was inevitable, “Y/N,” Steve’s tone was sturdy and you blinked at him, “Got it?”

He looked at you apprehensively, his grip tight over your hand. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Got it. Just twice. Entering and leaving.”

He nodded and pulled the sleeves of your coat halfway up both hands.

He gave you one more look and then nodded with his head towards Bucky, backing away from you, and walking towards Bucky’s direction.

You flexed your toes in your boots and held tightly onto the handles of your bag.

You took a deep breath and followed Steve towards Bucky.

Bucky looked at his boots and flexed his hands.

You didn’t realize how much bigger he was than you until now. Maybe it was his clothing, maybe.

You cleared your throat and he looked up at you through heavy lashes.

You wondered where he had been this morning while you were showering. It’s then that you catch sight of his heavy and dark bags under his eyes. Had he been up all night?

“Didn’t sleep?” Your question comes out before you mean it to and Bucky’s gaze quickly darkens.

“No.”

You sigh deeply, not knowing if you were more annoyed by his attitude towards you that clearly hadn’t changed or if you felt bad. You hoped his lack of sleep wouldn’t create more crankiness or mess-ups.

“Unlike you, I don’t need it.” He adds. He looks up towards the sky, making his sharp jaw visible to you and you curse the world for making him so attractive. You wondered then what kind of boyfriend he was to Daisy. And you wonder about the rumor of him and the Wakanda girl. Did he sleep with her? Was he good? Your questions in your head are interrupted as he continues, “We should get going. The sun is getting brighter and we can’t afford to lose one more day.”

Steve looked at you both like you were his two children going off to their first day of college and then he saluted you both goodbye.

\+ + +

Not one word was shared as you followed Bucky into the woods until what felt like three hours later.

The entire way, he hadn’t been kind enough to slow down for you, so you trailed behind him by at least fifteen feet.

You didn’t want to admit to defeat, but your lungs were burning and your legs were too. It wasn’t until he briefly stopped that you thanked the heavens.

As you caught up to his side, you saw what he had paused to look at.

There in front of you was an entire city. It was destroyed, defeated, and reeking of death and evil.

The broken and sharp metal of what had once been pretty buildings were now pointed into the sky. Heavy dust with lingering smoke, that had never gone away, still floated above the city like a dark halo.

You swallowed painfully, thirsty, and afraid.

Sure, he was an avenger, but the bacteria...

You looked at him, unsure.

“Bucky, we can’t go through the city. We have to stay on the outskirts,” he ignored you, taking a step forward and commencing his walk towards the city. You watched, unmoved, “It’s too dangerous, Bucky, we don’t know what is in that air—” You finally sighed and ran up to him, pulling on the sleeve ofhis coat, “Bucky—“

He quickly snapped around to look at you, “We are going through the city. You think I came all this way for safety? You think I _care_? You think I’m some kind of _coward_? That we’ll just be taking the easy way out for everything? Or do you actually have any courageous and strong bone in that pathetic body of yours?” His words attack your ego and you practically flinch at the last question, slowly letting go of his sleeve. He’s breathing hard through his nose and you watch as he runs a hand over his face. He points back with his metal arm, “It’s the quickest route. We’re on a _timed schedule_. I don’t have time for safety or _convenience._ I’ll go alone if that’s what it takes. Come with me or not.”

He doesn’t bother giving you another glance before commencing his walk into the destroyed city.You practically hear the howl of the wind and you pull the hood higher over your head.

You consider his words. You were trying to be safer, but he was right. This would be the quickest way and it wasn’t like you weren’t at least partially prepared for this.

You took a deep breath and followed him.

Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he was momentarily shocked when he saw you right next to him.

He took the first step into the pavement, a dry leaf crunch under his boot. The sound echoed in the air.

You were both faced with what once was the main road, fallen traffic lights and power lines lined the street.

Cars were overturned, some destroyed completely either by fire or vandalism. The buildings, if they weren’t destroyed, were broken into and also vandalized. Overgrown shrubs were beginning to grow over the street signs and into the cracks of the sidewalk.

It was also terrifying how quiet it was.

You didn’t trust it.

It was obvious Bucky was reluctant just as much as you because his pace matched yours, and at some point, he had even pulled out his gun.

Your eyes darted around as you passed the empty cars and buses. One of the cars even had what appeared to be kids' toys - a stuffed teddy bear and a baby mirror - and you shuddered looking away, not wanting to know what happened here.

Bucky’s gun followed his eyes and immediately you wondered how long its been that he’s left camp.

“How long has it been since you’ve been outside like this?” You ask.

He’s quiet as you both step over a fallen street sign that advertised some kind of clothing brand, and you take his silence as an answer, giving up.

“A while.”

You’re surprised that he responded and your eyebrows shoot up.

You wait a minute and take another bite.

“Not used to it anymore, huh?” He doesn’t respond, “I can tell.”

“Is this your idea of small talk?” He snaps.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. I’m stuck with you for the next six months, might as well.”

“No. _I’m_ stuck with _you._ ”

You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes. Your _joyous_ walk continues for a few more miles until you both turn onto a street where a train now lies.

You both stare at it, confused and surprised, wondering how the hell it got there. But judging by the entry holes on the buildings on either side, it was obvious that it had probably been thrown by means of an explosion of some sort.

And you would both have to somehow get around it.

As you approached the train car, you and Bucky came to a halt.

“I’ll go first since I’m heavier. Make sure it doesn’t topple over or isn’t booty-trapped.” Bucky says, tightening his bag strap over his body, “Stand back.”

You did as you were told and watched from a small distance as he began to climb into one of the cars which had its doors still open. Some bodies that had been reduced to skeletons were still inside.

You held tightly onto the straps of your backpack, apprehensively.

Eventually, Bucky had hopped out on to the other side with a huff.

He turned to face you.

“Your turn.”

You took a deep breath and a step forward, the leaves and glass debris breaking under your feet.

Your eyes met, and once again it was like that first time he saw you in the tent.

You looked down at the cart cautiously before stepping onto it. You clenched and unclenched your right hand, and with your left, you used it to help hoist yourself onto the train.

It rocked beneath your weight with a heavy groan and your eyes shot up to his in fear.

He leaned his right arm on the side of the car for support, and with his left, he stretched it out for you to take.

You look down to where he stood on the ground, and you swallowed, scared at how far the jump looked.

He wiggled his fingers and you were about to stretch your own arm out to take his hand when you saw something move behind him.

A man.

“Oh, my God.”

It was too fast for you to even recollect what happened, but suddenly you were on top of Bucky. You were screaming and he was cursing and you saw the silhouette of the man next to you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky shouted, until fully turning around to see what you were looking at.

He cursed before pulling you behind him to shield you. He ran you both back towards a destroyed building on the far side of the street and finally aimed his gun at the man who was groaning, a green/black substance oozing out of his mouth like foam.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, sending multiple gunshots into the man’s chest. He fell forward onto the street, dead.

You stumbled back and found Bucky’s hold on you soothing before he roughly pulled away and looked down at you, disappointed.

“Seriously?”

You inhaled deeply through your nose, feeling the dig of the building behind you.

How dare he snap at you for protecting him.

“You asshole. He was about to —”

“I don’t need you to protect me. If anything, you made it worst.”

“How the hell did I make it worst?”  
  
Bucky snarled, “What if I fell on him, huh? What if we both did?”

“But we didn’t!” You could feel your heart in your veins; in your head.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he swung his gun back down, relaxing his stance.

“Jesus _fuck_.” He mumbled under his breath, walking away from you, “I don’t know how you survived three years. It’s like it’s a _joke_ to you.”

You feel your tears in your eyes before you push yourself off the wall and walked right past him so this time you were the one leading the way.

“I do what I can.” You mumble.

“Pathetic is what you are.” You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t. Your pace grew faster as he continued on, “You don’t—” he grabbed onto your arm, making you quickly turn around and face him. You didn’t hide the tears and you knew very well he could see them. He looked into your eyes with his pretty blue ones, “You don’t hesitate to save your own life,” he tucked your scarf that had come loose tighter around your face, and for a second you thought maybe and finally, he had a change of heart. But his next words killed that as he stepped away, dropping his hand, “We can’t risk getting infected. And I can’t risk you getting me infected, either. I might be a super soldier, but we don’t know how that thing affects people like me.”

Him. It was always about him and _his_ safety.

“What about me? What about _me_ getting infected or killed?”  
  
He took a step closer to you.

“You signed up for this. You know the risk.”

He walked past you.

“So I should care about your life, but not about _mine_?”

“What I’m saying is you need to be careful.” You were about to say something else when he finished with, “Now tie your boots before you get us both killed by you tripping onto me.”

With a snarl, you looked down to see that, indeed, your left shoe was untied.

_Shit._

\+ + +

An hour after your fight, the winds grew stronger and your visibility was down to two feet. You hadn’t spoken to each other since, and to be fairly honest, it’s not like you wanted to speak to him anyway.

After the winds had calmed down, you had both made it through the city and were now walking through what had once been crops. Now it was just coarse sand and rough rocks.

You wanted to ask him if you could rest for a few minutes, at least to have something to eat. But you were so afraid of what he would say to you.

But as you both walked and walked, it became _harder_.

Eventually, you stopped, and he also stopped to look at you. Your face was crestfallen.

“I’m not a super soldier like you. I need to eat. Maybe have a sip of water.”

Bucky looked you down but then turned and continued walking again.

You wanted to cry.

Did he want you down on your knees? Would that be enough for him?

After a few minutes, you reached forest land again.

You watched as Bucky walked off to the left side and sat against a tree.

You wanted to cry in relief.

You practically ran to him, sitting next to him against the tree. You pulled off your backpack and he did the same with his.

You both sat there, chewing on some nuts and fruits and sipping water.

Afterward, Bucky threw his eaten apple into the leaves and rested his head up against the tree.

You took that moment to observe him, but not making it too obvious.

Your promise to Steve resonates in your head.

He looked so young to you that you began to wonder how old he was, biologically. There was no way he was older than thirty-eight. You felt pity that he suffered so much so young.

“Can I ask you something?” You know you were fetching far. But screw it. His answer, was a tilt of his head and a peak of a blue iris at you, “how old are you?”

He squinted his eyes at you, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know you’re in your hundreds, but biologically?”

He looked away from you and closed his eyes again. His mouth was in a straight, harsh line.

“A lot older than you.”

You bit your lip, looking away.

“I miss my life before this. I miss Netflix and Spotify. Damnit, I miss Halsey.” His expression is unchanged, “Did you ever have a favorite song? You know, before — before everything?”

He knows what you’re asking but he doesn’t answer you. Instead, he runs two hands down his face and announces that you should both get going again.

You’re disappointed.

You had quickly gotten over the fact that he would never like you, if anything he hated you, but you both needed to find a common ground of respect, especially if you would be spending this much time together.

But he still wouldn’t abide by you. It was like he just didn’t care. Were you going to have to show him your true colors?

Eventually, the sun was beginning to set and Bucky suggested you both should set up camp.

He built a fire using wood and a lighter while you laid down both your blankets. He eyed you over the fire as you put his blanket straight across from his.

He wanted to thank you but his words wouldn’t come out. He was still stuck on the question you had asked him.

After the fire was just right, he tucked himself onto his uncomfortable grey blanket and laid his head on his arm.

Your eyes closed tightly together as you tried your best to go to sleep. You folded your knees against your small chest into a fetal position, to keep warm.

Bucky watched you from across the fire. You were a good girl.

But you shouldn’t be doing this. You were the kind of girl that was supposed to live in the aftermath of the successful mission, not the one fighting for it. You were going to get hurt.

Just like he did.

And he hated you for it. You were so young and had so much to live for.

He hated that he felt so many emotions for you that made him want to scream at you and make you go away. He wasn’t sure what they were but he knew none of them was anything romantic.

He would never feel that way about anyone else ever again.

He turned around in his blanket and closed his eyes tight together.

He _did_ have a favorite song.

* * *

[ _Leaving Earth_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1ZUwoCWz8rJqzBTwtdscPN?si=HYwIUda5QzmqPxrRLa0WEA)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rest in peace, Chadwick.

#  **8**

_Echoes on the mind, laughs and great designs, lost in time._

__

**[...] A screeching scream of a child. A glint of metal...**

You weren’t sure if you were still dreaming or if reality had officially become unbelievably terrifying. Your first instinct is to swallow the gasp that escapes your throat as your body is being rocked from side to side. A cloud of heavy orange dust had crawled up into your sinuses and you tried to find what strength you could to cough out the dirt and finally be able to breathe properly again. Your lungs felt heavy and they burned ardently, a feeling of nausea and suffocation overwhelming your upper belly in tight waves.

You couldn’t be sick, not now.

You hear a strong voice calling out to you and your eyes finally somewhat adjust to the smog. You’re able to see Bucky right in front of you, his face scrunched up in concern. He’s yelling, you know he is, but your still-asleep mind can’t seem to wrap around the words he is saying. You feel the taste from the Apple you had eaten hours before on the roof of your mouth, and the twigs dig into your palms as you stretch yourself up into a sitting position.

You look around, seeing nothing but that orange smoke, your visibility very small.

You’re awake, and you snap your head to look at Bucky again, and this time he’s pulling you up by your arm. You feel the digits of his flesh hand digging into your forearm.

“What’s going on?” Your voice is hoarse and your throat is dry, begging for some water.

His brows are tight-knit and a growl comes from somewhere behind you. You freeze and you feel your eyes go wide, searching his for answers.

“We need to go. Now.”

“What time is it?” You don’t know why you ask, but you couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours. The sky had hardly changed and you did not feel well-rested.

His irritation is all over his face as he ignores your question.

You look down at your belongings, only swinging your arm around to grab your backpack. Your eyes dart to your shoes.

“My boots.”

A sound that could only be closest to a grumble escapes his throat, and he bends down to grab your boots in his hand. You’re going to ask him again what’s going on when he’s starts running, bringing you with him by your left arm as he does so.

He’s fast and he’s urgent in his movements. That same growl from earlier echoes among the trees and you feel the hair on your arms stand up.

“What is that?” You ask breathlessly.You feel the bottoms of your feet aching from the severe pain of running barefoot over the branches and rocks.

Bucky makes a sharp right turn against a tree and your back falls against his front with a heavy huff. You feel his heartbeat under you and he’s quiet for a few moments before whispering.

“It’s a bear.”

“Can’t you just kill it with your fist?” You don’t know if it was necessarily an insulting thing for you to say, you were only thinking logically. He was a super soldier, an _Avenger_. What damage could a bear do to someone like him?

But clearly it must’ve hit a nerve and you feel him quickly let go of you, making you almost topple forward. You spin around to see him snarling at you, his eyes dark.

  
“I could, but I can’t see anything through this fog. I see what you see. Unless you can tell me for sure the coordinates of this animal, I’m putting us both at risk. We need to move. Now.”

He pushes himself off the three and drops your boots next to you. He gives you a few seconds to tie them on securely and then he’s on the move again. You follow him very close behind.

You couldn’t risk losing him in this fog. Who knew how long it went for.

“The dust must’ve come in from the city overnight,” he mumbles, “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

“Don’t say that. You needed to sleep.”

He’s tense as he continues to walk through the branches and leaves. The smell of the oak is stronger and it’s a reminder to tuck your scarf tighter around the bottom half of your face. It reminds you of when you were both walking through the abandoned city when he had fixed your scarf. For a fraction of a moment, you had thought that he had finally let his wall down. Obviously, you had been wrong.

You taste the oak and dust in your mouth. It was a bit like charcoal, that part of the burnt marshmallow that some people enjoyed except for the nice sweet taste.

“Should we be breathing this in?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then he pulls his own hood higher over his face, “No. But we can’t just hold our breath. Not when we don’t know even know how far this fog goes.”

“Can’t we run?”

He ticks his jaw. “We can, but it’s not worth the exertion.”

“You seem very unworried.”

He tucks his hand into his coat pocket and pulls out the compass. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s just remnants of blown-up tanks and steel fires. Just cover your nose and you should be fine.”

You knew he had served in World War II, and that piece of knowledge comforts you a bit, knowing that you were probably in the best hands right now. But you also feel immense pity for the man. Was war all he knew of?

“What made you want to enlist?”

“I was drafted.”

You nod. “I didn’t know.” Your eyes dart down to the bag over his shoulders and you swallow thickly, “Should we stop for some water?”

He stops suddenly in his tracks and you find yourself almost running face front with his back. He turns around to look at you, an unamused glint in his eyes.

“I have a question for you.”  
  
“Okay?” You perk a brow.

“I don’t know anything about you or your life, all I know is about your little family and how they built a place that caused this mess in the first place. But, please, enlighten me. Did you always have everything served to you on a silver platter? Did you always get what you want and when you wanted it? Food, resources, entertainment, _water_?” His eyes trail over your face, “I can’t figure you out, kid.”

Your teeth clench together and your brain grows confused at his skill to mix an insult and a sincere tone all into one.  
  
You tilt your head at him and take a step closer.

“I have held nothing but the utmost respect for you, Bucky. But I’m done,” he raises a brow at you, “I’m done at trying to pretend like I can take your insults and your insinuations about me. You, do not walk over me. You do not have any power over me. You and I are one in this mission as a team and we are equals. You treat me like such. You can do whatever the hell it is you want to do when we get to The Capitol, but I will not stand by letting you attack my family. You might think you know me, think I’m a rebel just because I’m younger and because I’m sarcastic and have a tattoo, you might think you know me by making these assumptions, but you don’t know anything.” Your voice was wavering by the end of your little speech and you saw a flicker of something in Bucky’s eyes, “I’m trying very hard to be your friend, your acquaintance at least. Why can’t you just try to be civil?” You don’t know where your balls and guts came from, but there it was.

You felt your eyelid twitch as you waited apprehensively for his response.

Bucky scoffed and gave an eye roll as he turned away from you. This made your skin crawl. Was there really no use getting through to this man? Was his skin really that dense and thick?

“How you got Captain America to be your best friend, I will never know.” You mumble under your breath.

He doesn’t give you any indication, but he heard you.

He was trying to the best of his ability to not think about the answer to your question.

But he couldn’t help it as memories engulfed his brain. If there was anything worst than remembering the bad things he had done, it was remembering the good man he was before hell took over.

Bucky hadn’t always been an asshole. He knew used to be a good guy, and he used to be happy. That was back when he had something to live for.

After he was brainwashed and after he participated in decades of horror and violence, everything he had ever been was stripped away from his character.

He wasn’t that free spirit boy anymore.

He never would be ever again.

It killed him that he had been deprived of happiness and life.

Your presence was only a constant reminder of that. He didn’t need you, he didn’t want you near him or to help him.

Flashes of his ex-fiancé run through his mind and it triggers him instantly. He pulls his hood tighter over his head again, not wanting any emotion to show on his face.

He feels the blood in his head and he feels that longing for touch; for care.

He couldn’t think of her. He wouldn’t. And he certainly would not allow himself to think about the man he used to be, something you seemed to be digging at constantly.

An hour later you were both out of the fog. The skies above were starting to turn all different warm shades of beautiful purples and oranges. You both know sleep would not come again until tonight, so for the rest of the day, you would continue your travel south. You were halfway down an open field of overturned cars and abandoned homes. It was clear you were both in what used to be a middle-income family suburban area. Most of the homes are two to three stories, but what once used to be beautiful mowed lawns, were now overgrown weeds and wildflowers. Some of the homes’ doors were open, and you couldn’t help but try to peer inside to see what might’ve happened. Did the family leave in a rush? Were they ambushed? You feel a tight feeling in your chest as you remember your mom and dad. For most of your life, they had been your only ground, the only people to truly love you aside from Will. You still never understood why no one in school liked you, if it was because your family had more money due to being politicians or maybe because of politics in general - you never knew. But it hurt.

When you took your kickboxing class, it had helped majorly with your pent up anger and frustration - more so than any self given orgasm - and you never regretted taking it.

If anything, now here with the gorgeous Devil Incarnate himself, you regret not taking more of it.

You continue to look down the street. There’s a specific small building that catches your eye. The windows on the sides are shattered. The sharp shards on the sides attached to the building were pointed inwards, glass and dried blood mixed with dirt which you could faintly see inside just past the window.

Bucky parts his arm out to stop you, and you look over at him confused. His brows are itched together in confusion and he’s got his gun in a tight grip in his left hand. He shushes you and his eyes dart around wildly. You try to hear for what he hears but it’s evident that it was something only he could pick up on because of his super hearing.

His gaze quickly goes towards the left and he motions with his finger for you to follow him. A couple of more houses later and you both look inside one of the small ones. It’s a light blue home with black shudders. This door was also open and you could see straight into the stairs that led up to the second floor of the home.

There in the foyer was a small dear.

Bucky must have thought the same exact thing you did as he brings his gun up towards his face. He’s just about to pull the trigger when you put your hand on his elbow, not stopping him but making him halt.

“Are you sure we should shoot it? We don’t want to draw any attention.”

He shrugs with his one shoulder, “You want lunch?”

He’s got a point. Sure, you both had your fruits and herbs which is not awful. But just the thought of meat sounded so nice. You slowly let go of his elbow and Bucky presses the trigger.

The noise of the gunfire echoes through the empty town. Even with a silencer, it sounded loud. You both watch as the dear collapses to the side, a gunshot dead center between its eyes.

Bucky swings his gun over. “Come on.” He says.

You both reach down to grab the dear. He grabs it by the head and you grab the two hind legs.

She didn’t look too old, maybe a couple of months. So she wasn’t too large. It would be just enough meat for both of you.

Bucky’s walking backward out the front door of the home when you ask.

“So we’ll haul this thing until we see woods?”

“Don’t fool yourself. We’ll just bring it around the corner over there. I’ll set up a small fire or something.” You raise an amused brow as his eagerness to eat the animal.

He wasn’t wrong, just a couple of yards off the road there was a small park. You watched, intrigued, as he removed his glove and cut the animal at the belly, the loud squelching sound echoing around you as its inside spilled onto the earth.

After he finished gutting the deer, you watched as he slid the meat off the skin and bone with skill. It didn’t take too long for him to walk over you with two small halves of breasts of red meat, one in each hand.

“Grab your water bottle and just drizzle some water over it.” You do as told and you watch curiously as he cleans the carcass, leaving it red and finally appetizing looking.

You help in building the fire while he jams two sticks into each meat slab. He hands you one and he keeps the other. You both sit there for maybe forty-five minutes, cooking, and finally eating the season-less food. It’s bland and it tastes gamey. But like meat, nonetheless.

You’re both quick on your feet and back on the road again not too long after. Bucky’s got his hands on his backpack straps, holding tightly.

“We shouldn’t have stopped.”

You try not to groan.

“We were hungry.”  
  
He’s shaking his head, “We lost time. We put down our guard. It can’t happen again.”

“It’s only late morning —“

“We should be halfway past the river by now.”

You take a deep breath at his tone, trying your best to not lose your temper. Why must he be so difficult?

“We’re fine.”

He turns fully towards you, “We are not fine!”

He stops walking and so do you.

“It’s not even midday.”

“We,” he takes a step closer to you and you swallow thickly at his arrogant aura, “are supposed to reach The Capitol tomorrow night. That should not change. It _has_ to be tomorrow. No later. You holding me back won’t change that, if it comes down to it, I’ll leave you behind,” he looks down your face, “It’s not like I need your help.”

Your nostrils flare and your teeth clench together.

It happens quickly. He’s in your face, looking for another throw down, and then he’s falling backward with a heavy grunt.

Your heart beats away like crazy and you feel a fear you hadn’t felt in a very long time. You hadn’t felt it since you ran into a nomad a year ago. They had tried to kill you, just like they had Will.

You’re on your knees, grabbing Bucky by the shoulder as he’s half-sitting. You tilt him over until you see what looks like an arrow coming out of his upper shoulder.

“Oh my god, oh my god, okay. It’s okay, let me just —” you’re mumbling at lost for what to do, your hand hovering like crazy around the arrow, afraid to actually touch it. It doesn’t help that Bucky is breathing quickly through his nose, his nose and eyes pinched together in what could only be intense pain.

Next, he does something that you had never seen anyone do in real life before. He grabs the arrow with his opposite arm and he pulls it straight out with a deep grunt followed by a whimper. You watch in horror as blood escapes the slit into the cotton of his coat.

Next, he pulls you down until you’re on him and it startles you until you realize your mistake, another arrow shooting right past your head and into the field behind you.

“Stay the hell down.” He tells you. You do as told, too afraid to do anything else. With his good arm, he pushes himself until he’s sitting and he maneuvers into a position where he can get his gun out but he quickly lowers it back down again, “Damnit, it’s a kid.”

“What?”

“It’s a kid,” Bucky repeats. You watch from the ground as he raises himself up to a stand, “But the bow down, kid. We won’t hurt you.” The kid doesn’t say anything, “We’re not infected.”

You don’t know what the kid looks like nor what he’s doing, but a few long seconds pass before Bucky reaches his hand down, motioning for you to stand up.

You turn around to see that there’s in fact a kid with a bow and arrow and he wears a long coat, but very useless in comparison to yours. For a second you feel pity. He’s dirty and he looks very tired. No way he was any older than seventeen, his little ginger hair poking out from under his dark green beanie.

He looks between you and Bucky, his grip on his bow tight.

You want to tell him about the Avengers camp just outside of the city, and you look at Bucky, waiting for him to tell him. But he doesn’t.

You feel guilty and also angry at Barnes. You take a step forward, “There’s a place you can—”

“We were just on our way out of here.” Bucky cuts you off sharply, knowing what you were gonna do. His mouth is in a straight line, “We mean no harm.”

The boy says nothing for a bit and then looks back at you again. It kills you.

Eventually, he nods, pulling his beanie over his forehead.

Bucky sighs once the boy is gone. He grips his hurt shoulder tightly with his metal arm.

“Hurts like a bitch.” He groans.

You had almost forgotten he was hurt. You look down at his shoulder.

“Let me see it.”  
  
“It’s fine, it’s practically superficial. Nothing my serum can’t fix in a few hours.” Still, you reach your hand over covering his metal hand with your own over his wound, “What are you doing?”  
  
“Helping with the pressure to stop the bleeding.” After a bit, you lift your hand and he lifts his own, happy to see the blood had stopped oozing so much. “See?”

He doesn’t acknowledge your help, but instead just spins back towards the direction you were both going. “We need to keep going.”

“Why didn’t you tell him about the camp?” Bucky doesn’t say anything, “That’s kinda rich. Holding onto something that could potentially save his life.”  
  
“It’s not a refugee camp, trust me he would not do well there and people would not want him there, he’s just fine out on his own.”  
  
“Are you kidding me? You’re telling me he wouldn’t do well with food and water? A shower, maybe?” Bucky takes a deep breath, “Please tell me because, clearly, I don’t understand.”  
  
“Because it’d be just like that damn place! Like that damn wall we’re going to. Don’t you see that? We can’t just create another place like that, not when it can potentially become something just as horrible, we can’t just trust anyone.”

You kind of understood it, but your heart still felt heavy and your face falls sullenly.

“But he’s just a kid.”  
  
“Yeah, well so was I.”

His answer leaves you angrier and wanting to know more all at the same time. Who was this man?Would you ever know? When you had heard about Bucky Barnes in high school and college, this is not what you had in mind at all.

You both didn’t share another word, the air still tense between the both of you, for the rest of the day. For dinner, you both ate an apple on the go and walked and walked. You even make it past the river in silence.

Thankfully, the weather today wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t too brittlely cold and there were no more cities or towns.

Just woods - just the way you like it.

Bucky doesn’t have to say anything to you and neither do you to him. Maybe it would have to be this way for the next six months.

The sun is gone when you both find yourselves walking through a deserted amusement park.

“We’ll sleep here tonight,” Bucky says. He points to a carousel, and it creeps you out. The horses’ eyes are still bright as if painted on yesterday, “We’ll sleep in there.”

You don’t complain. You didn’t feel like talking to him anymore today.

Anyway, tomorrow would be the last day before you both reached The Capitol.

Hopefully tonight you’ll actually get some damn rest.

\+ + +

_It was in Indiana and Rebecca was the best little sister Bucky could possibly ask for._

_So much that he’d come home from school with his adolescent hands tied behind his back holding a little gift for her almost every day._

_She’d jump out in front of him with her little puppy eyes._

_“Bucky!” She’d squeal, throwing her tiny arms around his shin._

_Just her happiness made him smile so hard that his eyes would crinkle up at the sides._

_After he’d hand her the little bag of chocolates and give her head a little ruffle, she’d say:_

_“Daddy says he’s been waiting for you, Bucky.”_

_Bucky gave her a small smirk, “I know, just wanted to get my best girl her little chocolates first,” he’d shrug his shoulder nonchalantly, “I am the best brother in the world, aren’t I?”_

_“Best brother, sure. But seriously, your father has been driving me mad. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.” Bucky’s mother had walked into the foyer, her voice taunting and dripping with discipline._

_Bucky’s smile dropped slightly as he brought a nervous hand around his neck, rubbing there._

_He would squint his gorgeous blue eyes and bite bottom lip slightly in fear._

_He always knew what would happen when he made his father late to camp._

_He remembers the last time when his father made him run 5 miles non-stop through the heavy downpour._

_Right after, he’d have him slouch under the barbed wires purposefully making it lower, making him cut himself various times._

_His hot tears would mix in with the rain, making it essentially pointless._

_It wasn’t that his father was evil, but he was strict. He said it was to help him build character over what matters most and to make him strong._

_Bucky still remembers the first time he held a gun. It was as if a part of him that was missing was finally in its place. And his father caught on too - he was born to be a sniper._

_“One day, you’ll be the best. Maybe even a better man than me.” His dad had said._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive in the City and they have to share a bed for the next six months. Oh what could happen? hmmmmm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with me through my hiatus. I'm back.

#  **9**

He finds himself staring at one of the lifeless horses on the rusted carousel, his father’s words echoing in his mind. _One day, you’ll be the best. Maybe even a better man than me._

He didn’t believe them then, and he believed them less now. Part of him hoped that this mission would be the last one he’d have to go on, that this could be the one to finally save humanity and him from himself, and the other part hoped that he could live long enough to maybe see his father’s words come true.

You must’ve been asleep for at least two hours now. He could hear your rhythmic breathing just off to his side. You had situated yourself between the black horse and the stairs that led up to the second level of the ride, at just the perfect angle where he could catch a glimpse of you incase trouble arrived again.

Bucky’s eyes trailed from your backpack and to your gloved hands which were wrapped tightly around your knees. You trembled from the cold and Bucky cursed as he turned himself onto his back again, wondering when he had gone from Avenger to babysitter.

He hated this and he hated your attempt at conciliating. This wasn’t a field trip, this was a walk into hell.

He closed his eyes and hoped that sleep would finally take him in.

\+ + +

Bucky hadn’t spoken a word to you since you left the amusement park, which was about five hours ago. You had thought you had seen the worst of his attitude when he was throwing insults at you or unamused glances, but this was much worse.

When you needed to stop for some water, he only slowed down his pace. When you needed to retie your boots, he didn’t slow down at all.

You tried to make small talk at one point and he had ignored you completely, tightening the straps on his backpack.

Maybe Bucky was right, maybe there was no point in trying to make a friendship out of this, especially if he had no plan even coming out of it alive.

You wanted to play therapist as later afternoon came around. Climbing over a steep hill and some thorny bushes, you looked over at his pretty face hidden under his dark hood, you considered asking him why he was so disappointed when there was still so much he could still see and do.

You were about to as you both came over the hill when he stopped, and his right arm stretched out, stopping you too.

Your heart drops. This was everything you were expecting, yet it was incomparable to what you had imagined in your head. The City stood tall in the distance. You felt like it had been centuries since you’ve seen something so beautiful, the feeling almost making you want to cry. Your parent’s creation.

But then you looked over and saw the look of fear in Bucky’s eyes, and you remembered what the people in this place actually had; what they had taken and what they stood for. While it was breathtaking, the huge cemented wall surrounding it only reminded you both that it was a life that people like you did not deserve.

At that, your eyes drift over the community that was situated in front of the wall. You could see crowds of people trying to attempt to get into The City, but being shot by one of the Hydra agents that stood on the watchtower before they could even get too close. You could hear the screams and shouting of the humans begging for their life.

Bucky swallowed thickly before he looked down at the tracker around his wrist.

“You ready for this?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say.

“Give me your right hand.” He says.

You reluctantly stretch it out to him. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he rolls up your sleeve, revealing your Stark Tracker. He presses a button on the side, making the LED screen turn on.

You can feel his breath on your face at his proximity and your can’t help but stare up at him as he touches you. He had the longest eyelashes you had seen, and his eyes were so blue they were almost grey.

“Keep it like that.” He instructs in a gruff voice.You nod, finally looking away. He dusts off his attire and helps you dust off yours, “We should be fine with this. Our ID is in the bag. If it works and if Shannon got everything right, we should have no issues.” He turns and looks at his ten o’clock., “The underground entrance we want is just off the side of there. On my call, we turn on the trackers and we go. It’s guarded by a few hundred Hydra agents and a heavily militarized check in system. We have seconds to get through, so you have to stay by my side and run as fast as you can. I will not be slowing down. Either you run or you stay back long enough to risk getting yourself killed. Got it?”

You clench your jaw at his words.

“Got it.” You say.

“Good.”

“I just have one question.” You stare at him intently as you ask, “Won’t they recognize you? Hydra, I mean.”

“Yes, Hydra would. But we need to remember that not everyone in there is Hydra. Which is why this mission is so delicate. Over seventy percent of the ones in there are regular people who don’t know the card they’ve been dealt. As long as most of my face is covered, I should be fine. You probably won’t even have to cover yours at all, you’re no one.”

You clear your throat, masking the effect of his insult as much as you could.

“Gotcha.”

“Make sure everything is strapped on. I can’t afford a mishap.”

You do as he says and then you both begin your walk down the hill and into Hell.

\+ + +

After a forty five minute walk around the outskirt of the community and towards the entry way Bucky had spoken about, you finally realize the gravity of how speed would play an important role.

You were still far enough to where Hydra couldn’t spot you, but you were close enough to see just how thick this wall was.

You gulp, your sleeve rolling up higher as you look down at your Tracker.

Bucky does the same.

“You see those two guards and that slope? On my call, turn on the tracker and we go in. You will follow my lead, because I know where we have to go.”

You nod.

“There’s no door? Not even a gate? It’s just open?”

“There’s a coded one at the end, but there’s also a trash shoot down Hallway E which is where we will go. It was initially supposed to be used for depositing spoiled foods such as vegetables and fruits. A security fault.”

“What do they use it for now?” You ask.

“Could be the same reason. Ready?”

You tighten your scarf and hood. Next, you look down at your wrist.

“Ready.”

“On three.” He starts and you find yourself swallowing thickly, “One,” you hover your finger over the tracker, “two,” you feel his arm around your back, “three.”

You both simultaneously press the tracker and run for the underground entrance.

The clock starts from 90.

Just the run to the entrance was farther than it looked and you already feel your lungs burning as you try to catch up to him. He wasn’t lying when he said he would be fast, but part of you is also thankful because you can tell he could go even faster because of his super soldier serum. He was purposefully cutting down his speed for you.

You run past the two heavily armored guards who are speaking in Russian into their coms, completely unaware of you and Bucky’s presence.Once you step fun into the musty tunnel, your ears clog up and you have to swallow to pop them. You follow Bucky down the large corridor, the only lights being the large LED ones on the ceilings. You are momentarily caught off guard, realizing you hadn’t seen electricity in years. You wondered how much planning your parents went into making just this tunnel that was supposed to be used for food depositing. You have to shake the memories of them away as it starts to distract you.

Bucky is already too far ahead of you and you have to ignore your burning lungs just to catch up. At the end of the hallway, he makes a sharp right turn and you look behind you to see more Hydra agents lined in the hall way, oblivious and arrogant as they talk to each other.

Ahead of you and Bucky are the militarized personnel, behind them what appears to be some kind of check in point. You feel your nerves pick up as you catch a glimpse at Bucky’s face. He doesn’t look phased at all and that gives you a little bit of courage. Once you are a few feet away from the men, he slows down drastically.

One of the men in gear is staring ahead, almost like he sees you and for a second you wonder if he does. It shocks you when you feel Bucky grab your hand, pulling you straight passed the scary man. Your eyes continue to linger on him as you cross the threshold, and you’re relieved when his gaze continues to stay ahead and no longer on you.

Bucky lets go of you and his speed picks up again.

Ahead of you you see the coded steel door he had been talking about. As you close in on it, he makes a left and his pace slows down.

For a second his movements falter as he looks at several doors the line the hallway. You feel inclined to look down at your tracker to see how long you have left, but you know that will only make you more afraid. Still, you can’t help but feel dread.

You’re ecstatic when Bucky walks a few more feet ahead, more determined this time, and he opens what appears to be a large industrialized trash shoot.

He looks up at you and behind you to make sure no one is seeing a door magically open by itself, and he pulls you ahead of him.

_He wants me to go first._

The smell isn’t as bad as you thought it would be and it’s also larger than you through it would be. You grab onto the sides with your hands and you prop your feet up on both sides as you begin to climb up.

Darkness engulfs you when Bucky closes the shoot. You feel him behind you as you both climb. The shoot levels out and you straighten your arms and legs out as you climb horizontally. You see the exit of the shoot and you practically glee in delight, opening it as fast as you can.

The air around you already feels different, the heavy mud making you sink into the ground. Bucky jumps out right after you and you remember that you’re not done yet as you look out into the city.

You feel tears in your throat as you run behind him and towards an iron gate with an opening.

You felt so close, yet so far away. You feel time ticking away as you feel the tracker vibrate against your wrist. You know time is running out and so does Bucky because he starts speeding up.

He wasn’t kidding. He was going to leave you behind to die.

He’s just about to step outside the gates when you suddenly feel him grab the front of your coat with what must be his metal hand. The air leaves your lungs when you both turn sharply around the corner of a building and against a wall.

You feel the movement of his chest as he controls his heavy breathing, and you push yourself away slightly to look down at your watch.

2…1.

You close your eyes tightly together, letting a long breath escape your lips.

You have no time to celebrate before Bucky snaps at you to roll down your sleeve. It’s after your eyes meet and then look away when you finally take in the life around you.

You were on a tarmac for what appeared to be a monorail, and the sound of people chattering in the air warmed your soul.

You both turn the corner to see the life you had been kept from. The scenarios of what ifs fill your mind and you don’t expect it to affect you as much as it does.

Bucky can tell the affect it has on you. He politely asks you to turn around and you do as told. You feel him open your backpack and then he’s handing you your hologram ID. You do the same for him and with a final nod you let him know you’re ready.

He leads you to the residential tower Shannon had mentioned.

On the walk, you try to not look too out of place as you watch the people pass you by. Their attire was a bit different than yours but not too much. Probably the only thing out of place was the boots and scarf. You even drag it down slightly to not call too much attention.You’re shocked to see some teens and kids among the crowd, and people who look relatively kind.

It’s at this moment that Bucky’s words ring true to you. Some of these people have no idea what’s even going on out there and it’s not even their fault. This mission wasn’t about killing a man that did you wrong.

Bucky halts in front of you and you know you’ve arrived.

ALERUS is written on the huge glass entrance.

When you step foot into the lobby, it’s refreshing. The marble floors contrast harshly with your muddied shoes and the lights overhead were too bright for how you were feeling inside. There’s an echo of a female voice resonating and you realize it’s a recording announcing arrivals to ALERUS and scheduled events.

You follow Bucky to a check in machine. He checks into a room that was already discussed with Steve and the team that you would both check into. Next, he pulls out his ID. You both watch attentively as the AI system reads Bucky’s number. You can tell he’s apprehensive as it takes a bit a time, knowing that this was the part you both weren’t sure would work. You feel yourself sweating through your clothes, scared that at any moment Hydra would be notified of a false identification attempt and you’d both be arrested, or worse, killed.

ACCEPTED

The screen reads back.

Bucky motions for you to go next with your ID and it is also accepted. He pays the AI the appropriate amount of cash and then the AI hands you two chips which you assume are the keys.You take the elevator to the twenty eighth floor and the ride is silent.

You want to speak to him but his emotions are unreadable. You look away, wanting to avoid another argument.

When you reach the floor your heart hammers away in your chest. You were going to be sharing a room. You were really doing this. You’re not sure why this was affecting you differently now than it did back at the camp.

At the apartment door, Bucky lifts the chip to the door scanner. He presses the side of the chip which sends a hologram light into the scanner, followed by a click.

He opens the door and you both stand there for a moment, taking in the living quarters.

It’s breathtaking.

Off to the right side was the living room with two full book cases. There were two couches, both silver. In front of them there was a coffee table and on the wall there was a large screen TV, underneath that a full collection of different kinds of liquor.

Across the living room there was a dining area with a holographic screen, probably an AI of some sort, next to it a hallway that led to what appeared to be a large kitchen with stainless steel appliances.

Stepping down from the foyer, you both lay your stuff down on the living room floor. The floor was a dark walnut wood.

Bucky watched as you ventured your way into the bedroom space.

It was huge. The entire wall was glass, at least twenty feet high and thirty feet wide. The bed had white pillows, white comforters, white sheets, and it was right up against the glass. In front of the bed was a gorgeous grey rug and at the corner, a round chair.

You walked up to the view, not believing anything that was happening. The tall skyscrapers and monorails were all you could see. Life was all you could see. You put your fingers up against the glass, swallowing tears.

You heard Bucky clear his throat behind you. You spun around and your breath caught in your throat. He had never looked so human, so broken.

“The AI downstairs said there should be some spare clothing for us in the closet.”

You look at him for a brief moment longer before nodding. He nods back and then walks away. You turn your attention back to the window, still not believing any of this.

A few minutes later you hear the distant sound of a shower running and you feel your cheeks instantly blush.

You didn’t want to think about naked Bucky when you still held that small crush for him. Especially when he hated you as much as he did. The reminder of that washed over you like a cold shower and you quickly find yourself digging through the closet and finding yourself a pair of grey sweats and a grey shirt. The normalcy of it all was strange.

When he enters the room, his hair is wet and he’s already got his own sweats on. He ignores you as he walks over to the night stand, checking it for who knows what.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You tell him.

He doesn’t say anything. You’re not surprised.

You’re grateful for the razors and diversity of shampoo this bathroom had been stocked with. The team knew what they were doing when chose this room specifically for this mission. After shaving what you needed to shave, washing every nook and cranny, and washing your hair, you felt like a completely new girl.

Stepping out of the steam and into the cool air of the loft, you realize how late it was. The sun had set and the only lights were coming from the lamp in bedroom off to the side and the blue reflection of the hologram onto the dining room table where Bucky stood. You noticed he was looking at something on the table and you want to ask him what he was doing but you were afraid he would snap at you. Instead, you find yourself walking to the bed. You sit on it as you look out into the glow of blue, pink, and yellow lights.

“Can you come over here, please?” His question has you stepping out of the bed and towards the dining area. It’s when you are standing over him that you see him looking at what looks like an iPad, “Lets just get something straight,” his finger continues to move over the iPad, “We’re not here on vacation, and we’re not here to relax. This is serious and I need you to start treating it as such.”

His authoritative tone has you fuming.

“I wasn’t relaxing. I didn’t want to bother you. You looked busy.”

“Of course, I’m busy, I’m working. And you should be, too,” his eyes darted briefly towards the window, “not taking in the scenery.”

“Why not? It’s our battlefield for the next six months, is it not? Might as well learn the blueprint.”

“Because I’m sure that’s what you were doing. Learning the blueprints.” He says with a scoff. You feel your cheeks burning with underlying anger. He always knew how to get on your last nerve. He turns the iPad over to you and shows you a document, “Page one of one fifty four. We need to find a job under our given occupation. We were given mediocre jobs, non essential, so it should be easy. Do you remember what yours was?”

“Bartender.” You say without thought.

“Now let’s go over tomorrow’s tasks.”

“Let’s just get this shit over with.” You say under your breath as you move in, without much thought.

Bucky lets out a heavy breath and places his hands on the table below him. He looks up at you with what could only be described as a glare. His gaze is dark and his lip is in a tight line.

“This _shit_ is what I’ve been working on for the last three years.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You say.

“Then what did you mean? That you just want to snap all of the issues away? Did you forget we actually have real work to do? Or are you still in that mindset that you need to kill the man that killed your parents and then leave because nothing else matters?”

You feel your eyes burn.

“Don’t you dare talk about them like that.”

“Please, you think you’re the only one who had a family? We’ve all been there. But life goes on.”

You feel tears prickle your eyes as you both stare at each other.

“Yeah, well, you should tell yourself that.” You stare down at the iPad, “Let me read the tasks for tomorrow on my own, I don’t need you to read anything for me. You’re a dick and I’m a grown woman.”

You practically hear him growl as he locks the iPad and pushes it away. You refuse to look at him as your anger continues to boil over and your eyes still burn.

“That’s is what you don’t understand, I am your partner. You are my partner,” his voice is a husky growl that sends shivers down your spine, “I might not like it, but it’s been done and now we need to do this together. We can’t afford to get anything wrong. One mistake and me and you are both dead and this was all for nothing. I worked hard on this and I know that it will work if done right. Nothing will stand in my way of that. Do you understand?” You swallow hard and it hurts your throat, “Do you understand, Y/L/N?”

You take a deep breath.

“Yes.” You say quietly.

“Good. Now let’s go over this, together.”

You go over what you will both do tomorrow. Job interview, get to know the community, make connections, get possible intel.

You’re finally getting into bed to get some rest when you feel a looming body standing above it. You look over to the right to see Bucky standing there, looking hesitant.

“I’ll take the couch.” He says, but he doesn’t move.

“Just get in.” He looks at you and then at his pillow, “You hate me. What’s the worst that could happen? You choke me in your sleep?”

“Don’t joke about that.”

You turn away from him and look out the window.

“Get in, Bucky. It’s a bed. You and I both know we haven’t had a real one in years.”

He looks over you, his eyes flickering over your tattoo on the back of your neck as he does so.

He’s afraid, but he tucks himself next to you.He lays on his side once he’s under the comforter, his front to your back.

_Was your tattoo a snake?_

He looks over at the city and he knows why you had been captivated by it. It _was_ breathtaking. The light from the moon was bouncing off the skin on your arm, making you glow.

_You were just a kid._

“Can I ask you something?” You mumble into your pillow. You don’t give him a chance to respond, “When’s the last time you shared a bed with a girl?”Your question makes him stiffen and you feel him go rigid behind you. You fear that you were crossing a line that was not appropriate, but the way he had felt about sleeping next to you was startling and it wasn’t a big deal, but it appeared to him that it was, “It’s just a question. Was it in Wakanda? Brooklyn?”

Bucky’s heart hammers away in his chest at the memory of the last time he spent the night with a girl.

You surprise him when you turn around, fully facing him. He’s staring straight at you with a look you can’t place.

“I never shared a bed with a boy before.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that and he also doesn’t know how to feel at your confession. This seemed too private and too exposing and he didn’t like it.

He closed his eyes, not baring to stare you at such close proximity.

“Tell me one thing about you. I need to know who you are if you expect me to work well with you. Tell me anything.” Your voice quiets down to a whisper.

He doesn’t want to. Not because he doesn’t trust you or because he thinks you’re not worthy of knowing anything about him like a normal person would, but because the things you were asking him were too hard to talk about. He was a man still very much in love. Why couldn’t you ask him his favorite color or his favorite gun?

Realizing he wasn’t going to answer, you sigh in defeat. You turn back around, trying to keep down the feeling of rejection.

A few minutes go by and suddenly he feels closer than he was before. You feel the heat of his strong body against your back.

“If you only knew.” Your eyes flicker open at his words, confused as hell but also a bit happy that he answered you even if it wasn’t really answer at all, “If you only knew, by Ella Fitzgerald.” Suddenly your heart thuds away in your chest, “that’s my favorite song.”

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Olive Branch. Lots of sexual words/references in this one. Not too much cursing yet. ;)

#  **10**

You woke up the next morning to a sharp and warm ray of sunshine in the corner of your eye. The feeling of the soft sheets between your toes, as you stretched them out, felt unbelievably surreal. You hadn’t forgotten where you were, but the reminder of it made you feel a kind of happiness that you knew you should be guilty for. Not ready to face the shine of a brand new day directly into your irises, you turn around onto your other side. You bring the heavy comforter up to your chin, eyes darting briefly to the empty spot where Bucky had slept next to you last night.

Sitting up halfway on one arm, you rubbed your eyes with your other hand. He wasn’t in the main area, so he must’ve been in the bathroom or the kitchen. You knew for a fact that he wouldn’t have any reason to leave until tonight when his part of the mission started.

You thanked him in your head for keeping all the lights still off. It was easy on your eyes and made it physically easier for you to climb to the other side of the bed and up onto your feet.

You were never a morning person.

You walked to the dinning area and saw that your plans from the previous night had been neatly stacked on the corner of the table. Across the room by the couches, the TV was on but with no sound. Your eyes furrowed together at the absurdly of it. You weren’t going to lie, you were expecting The Capitol in Hydra’s hands would be more of a North Korea type of situation. You weren’t expecting them to willingly be showing reruns of _I Love Lucy_ at — you look down at the digital clock — seven thirty AM.

“I made coffee, if you want some.”The gruff voice came from behind you. You quickly turned around to see Bucky leaning against the side of the hallway that led into the kitchen. He was staring at you with a look you couldn’t detect, but his eyes quickly darted up over your shoulder to what you had been looking at, “I was surprised, too.”

You look back at the television with a smile and then followed him into the kitchen.

Bucky sat at the little breakfast nook in the corner reading what looked like a document as you sipped some delicious coffee. You practically cooed at how delightfully warm it made your insides.

It had been ages since you had some.

You looked up from your cup and back up at Bucky. His eyes were tightly knit together in concentration and you are reminded of your conversation you had yesterday. Steve’s plan replays in your head and you feel happy that you finally got Bucky to open up about at least _something_. You decide then that this would be the perfect opportunity for you to offer an olive branch.

He barely looks up as you slide into the chair directly across from him.

You clear your throat, feeling a little more nervous now.

“I used to work at a diner before all this. That was my last job before the fall,” you cup the warm mug in both hands, watching the swirls of light brown and the steam flow into the air, “this reminds me of the coffees I would make. It’s nice.”

You look up to see Bucky’s reaction. If it weren’t for you looking directly at the corner of his eye, you would’ve missed the slight twitch that it gave, indicating he had heard you.

You drink the rest of your coffee in silence, minus for the occasional shuffling of papers as Bucky continued to read.

Eventually, he spoke.

“There was only one job opening I could find on last notice in the area noted as red, where our targets could be.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice and you perked your brow in intense interest, “It’s walk-in, I don’t think a real interview is even required, but they open at ten AM if you want to go then and check it out,” you were surprised that he was giving you a choice and this interested you even more, “or I don’t mind waiting a few more hours and seeing what else might be available.”

“Where’s the job?” You ask, cutting to the chase.

Bucky hesitated for a moment before handing one of the pages over to you.

You read it over, finding yourself flushing deep red.

“A sex club?”

“I’ll see what else I can find. I just need a little more time—”

You could easily tell this was making him highly uncomfortable and you found it mildly amusing.

“Bucky, it’s fine. I’d be bartending. I wouldn’t even see or do anything — like _that,_ ” he looked at you and the paper and his jaw ticked, “and like you said, we have no time to waste. I’ll go at ten, as soon as they open.”

Bucky looks at the paper one more time before giving a curt nod. He pulls out another piece of a paper.

“The club is in zone A, we are looking for a man named Silas. He was known to be affiliated with Sword way back, switched to Hydra and worked on hands with some men who were in the political party under the ring leader. We aren’t sure for certain if it would lead us to him, but we need as much insight and connections as we can.”

The Ring Leader. The man that killed your parents. You felt the bile in your throat, knowing you’d be so close to his affiliates. This was having an affect on you, even though you’ve already heard part of this before.

Bucky noticed your reaction.

“He’s known for never appearing the public eye, according to Sharron, so I doubt you will run into him personally.” He looks down at the papers once more and then you again, “Dirty work is my part. You just need to give me information. You said you could do this and I expect you to follow through.”

You know you did, this time it just felt more real. You always envisioned killing your parent’s killer, but you’re lying if you said part of you never thought it was some unreachable dream.

But it wasn’t, this was happening.

\+ + +

You had just enough time to have a second cup of coffee — you couldn’t resist — , brush your teeth, shower, and order some clothes off that AI which were promptly delivered to your room. By the time you had to leave, Bucky was taking his own shower, so you didn’t have a chance to give a proper goodbye.

You were a little thankful for that. You never knew when your conversation would turn into another olive branch or argument. You both left it on a good note at the breakfast nook, and you wanted to leave it that way.

The layout of The Capitol, was no different than New York City. It was obvious that your parents had wanted to keep it as normal as possible, probably for good reasons. A sense of normality and comfort was always nice. As you walked the streets, you wondered if most of these people realized they had only been chosen because of their wealth status, occupation, or status quo in general.

Thankfully, the club had only been a few blocks from the residential tower, so it took you no longer than twenty minutes to get there.

As you stood at the entrance, you looked down at your attire, hoping it was a good enough choice for this particular job. You chose a slightly cut down top which emphasized your cleavage and tight black pants. You had a long, black coat with a hood thrown over it. You presented your ID to the doorman to show him you were of age and he let you in.

Stepping foot into the club was exhilarating. For being so early in the morning, there were already a good handful of people scattered around. There were chic tables where people were eating, both men and women, and at the bar in the back there were already two people. You could tell this place was on the high end side since most of the men wore either a suit or a dress shirt and tie. The women were wearing surprisingly un-slutty dresses. You wondered to yourself if this where most of them came to discuss business. The music wasn’t too loud, but the bass automatically affected your heart.

At the center of the room there were gorgeous dark mahogany stairs that led into the downstairs area. You wondered if that was where the sex happened.

You felt yourself blush as you walked passed it and towards the hostess.

She was a cute red head with striking red lips. Her voice was just as gorgeous as her appearance as she spoke.

“Hi, do you have a reservation? I see you didn’t lock in the membership card.”

“N—no, I actually wanted to see if the bartending job was still open.” You said in a small voice.

“Oh, sure. If you don’t have an interview, you might have to fill out an application and wait for our notification of return. Give me one moment I will find out for you.” She said.

You simply nodded with a smile.

You heard an obnoxious laughter from behind you and your eyes darted to a blonde man in the corner of the club. He was at a table with three other men. He wore a black fitted suit, expensive looking, and a shiny watch on his hand. A doctor? Lawyer?

_Hydra?_

The reminder of where exactly you were hit you like a freight train and you tried to control the emotions that overwhelmed you.

_Stay cool._

“You can actually go straight into the back with Pietro. He’ll go over the job with you.” The pretty girl said with a bright smile as she walked back over to you.

You shook your fearful feelings away and thanked her.

Your short heeled boots felt heavy on your feet as you met Pietro’s pretty eyes over the bar. He threw you a small smile as he placed a bottle of Grey Goose on the glass shelf.

“Hi, the girl told me I needed to fill an application. I didn’t know —” you started, your thumb poking over your shoulder as you explained yourself.

He waved a hand at you, “No, need. Just tell me you have experience and if you can make top five most popular drinks, and you’re hired.”

You swallowed thickly as you hesitantly walked around the bar.

“Uhm, I mean I worked a summer after high school at an Applebees bar. Before -” you looked at him unsure as you wondered how to say what you wanted to say. You realized that these people never experience The Fall or The War. He looked at you confused, waiting for you to continue, “before I also did some waitressing.” You lied, awkwardly.

He nodded.

“That should be fine. Can you mix well?” He asked, You nodded, “Great. Back here you have the expensive liquors. Yamakazi, Clase Azul, Brignac, Macallan, Cognac, etcetera. Usually requires a key. I can get it for you. On the main you have your regulars, John Walker, Bacardi, Smirnoff, Captain Morgan, the usual tea. Got it?”

You took it all in.

“Got it.”

‘Great. You can start now. Shifts are Monday, Thursdays, and Fridays ten AM to five PM. Let me know when you want your lunch, and I’ll jump in for you for the hour.”

That sounded fine to you.

“Okay.” he threw you another warm smile and your heart broke when you realized it reminded you of Will.

“Our clients are usually very high end. They require at least a two thousand dollar month membership to get in,” your eyebrows practically shot up in shock, “you’re lucky we are desperate right now. Looks like nothing but it’ll pick up in the next three hours or so.”

\+ + +

Pietro wasn’t lying. After noon, the club was swarming with people. You found yourself making about ten drinks every half-hour, by two o’clock, double the amount.

Unfortunately, no one of interest had walked in yet. They were all men, younger and older, who were obviously there for a quick drink to loosen up to have some sex. You found yourself disappointed, and you were scared of how Bucky would react if you were to come home tonight with nothing at all.

You had to find something. Anything.

That something came around four o’clock dressed to the nines in a black dress and white heels with red soles.

A girl who looked like how you felt almost all the time.

She let out a pathetic sigh as she asked for her drink. You gave her a soft smile and handed it to her. You watched as she sipped slowly, her thoughts obviously else where as she drew imaginary lines on the bar top.

After her second drink, you dove in.

“It’ll be okay, whatever it is you’re feeling.” You say.

She was momentarily surprised. At first she appeared shocked that you were speaking to her, but then her eyes softened.

“I’m just so tired of everything. I’m so pathetic.”

“I doubt that. I mean, you’re absolutely gorgeous. You seem like a nice girl, too.” You say softly.

She lets out a bashful laugh and looks away.

“Thanks,” she looks back up at you, “You’re really nice. Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Yeah, today is my first day.”

“Well, good luck. You get quite a handful here, lemme tell ya.” She swallows the rest of her whiskey in one gulp.

You watch, intrigued.

“Why’s that?”  
  
“This is where all the hot task fore men come. All the CIA hotties, FBI, and cops who killed —” she leaned in obnoxiously close to whisper to you, “ _hydra,_ with their own hands.” You felt your blood run cold and you masked your surprise as much as you could.

“Really, now?” You gave a fake smile, to play like you were interested.

“Oh, yeah! What’s hotter than that? I just wish the Avengers survived. The terrorists out there never should’ve killed them.”

\+ + +

After your first day at work, you couldn’t get to your room fast enough.

As you ran past Bucky who sat on one the couches, you all but missed the look he had on his face.

“What the hell are you wearing?” He asked.

“I had to look the job,” you said hurriedly. He continued to look at you like you had three heads before you sat down next to him, eager as can be, “You won’t find out what I found out, Bucky.”

He motioned for you both to head over to the dinning area where he set up a recording and sat across from you.

You took a deep breath, crossing your hands and placing them on the table.

“So this club isn’t just a sex club, I mean it is, but it’s like a rich people thing. There’s a two thousand dollar starting membership, two thousand dollars, and that’s not including the downstairs area packages.” You ranted.

Bucky was rubbing his temples as he let out a sigh.

“Bucky, they don’t just not know that Hydra is behind all this. Okay? They wholeheartedly believe that these men are the ones who killed Hydra. They believe in this civil system,” you look down, “but that’s not the only thing, they—” you look at him and sigh, “they think that the people out there, behind the wall, are bad people. That they are all terrorists. They think they killed the remainder good people. Including The Avengers.”

Bucky’s face fell as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I know,” you said, “This is beyond complicated. Even more so than we thought.”

Bucky nodded, “That’s good that you found that out. I mean, it was one thing to know that most of the population in here don’t know that this is Hydra, I mean good work on finding proof, even though we already knew that,” he gives you a glare, “but from what you said, it definitely runs deeper than anticipated. And no mention of any Silas? No suspicious men?”

You scoffed.

“They were all suspicious,” you let out a long breath, “it’s going to be hard finding out who he is out of all of them without help. Do we at least have a physical hint we can work with? Haircut? Mole? Distinctive facial features?”

Bucky shook his head as he bit his lip, deep in thought.

Your jaw ticked, until realization hit you.

“Wait, I know.” You say.

“What?” He asks.

“I can try to access their membership system. Maybe in Pietro’s office. There could be a name under his membership.”

“Okay, yeah, good strategy. What’s this Pietro’s guy’s hours?”

“Today five PM to three AM. So you want me to look?”

Bucky turned off the recorder and stood up.

“No.”

Disbelief washed over you.

“No?”

He walked over to the closet in the bedroom and grabbed his coat.

“Correct, no. Your job is to get this information for me. It’s my job to do the actual real job.”

“Come on, Bucky. I can work a damn computer.”

“No, I can’t risk that.”

You run up to him and grab his arm, he stares down at you, baffled.

“Please.” You beg.

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

\+ + +

Bucky shuttered as he sat outside the window in the ally next to the the infamous sex club.

From his angle, he could easily see inside what he assumed was Pietro’s office. He knew it was the guy’s shift so he should have a wide enough angle. Bucky watched the door warily. After checking for security cameras, with skill, he cracked the lock on the window open, and crawled through.

He pulled out his sharp knife from inside his coat and walked up to the door. He stuck it in the small hole in the door knob and locked it. That should buy him some time incase Pietro were to walk back in.

He walked to the computer and opened the system. No unlocking needed. Bucky rolled his eyes.

He quickly found the membership data base. His dick stirred in his jeans as he read things he hasn’t thought about in decades.

MEMBERSHIP PACKAGES - NDA’s PROTECTION INCLUDED

**Basic**

SEX - Condom Necessary

No Oral

No kissing

**Silver**

SEX- Condom or Raw option available

KINK SHAME option

No Oral

Kissing OK

**Platinum**

SEX- Condom or Raw option available

BDSM

KINK SHAME option

ANAL

Oral - Female and Male Receiving

Kissing OK

Watching …. 

…and so on.

Bucky let out a long breath as he continued to the Name search. He typed in Silas.

**1 Match**

He clicked on the profile.

_Silas Kuznetsov_

**Platinum Membership**

There weren’t any more personal info except for his picture, which is exactly what Bucky was looking for.

He was taking in his face as best he could when the door knob started shaking.

“What the hell?” A voice with an accent came from behind the door.

Bucky quickly got up from his seat and started closing out the pages. He put the computer to sleep.

Quickly, Bucky managed to squeeze his way out the window. Bucky let out a long breath as he rested against the brick wall of the alleyway, but it wasn’t because Pietro had almost walked in.

\+ + +

“Did you get it?” You voice was anxious as you heard the front door close.

Bucky walked to the dining area with a huff. He grabbed the piece of paper in the corner and began to scribble down.

You walked over to him and began to read what he was writing.

“Sharp nose, blue yes, brown hair,” you chuckled, “you sure you weren’t looking into a mirror?” Bucky growled as he continued to write, “A small cut on his left eyebrow. There we go.”

He took the paper and handed it to you, his face unreadable, “Think you can work with that?”

“Yeah, this is great.”

He gave you a nod and walked away.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night. Thankfully, you were able to order some take out via the AI, and you had Japanese food delivered to you in no time.

On the couch, you chewed on your Teriyaki as you watched Bucky staring at the food, but not eating it.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked if you liked Japanese food.”

“I do, I just don’t understand why you bought so much. A waste of money. We’re here for six months, not six days.” He snaps.

You throw your food onto the table and walk away, pissed.

“God, I seriously can’t with you.” You say.

“Nice. Throw the four hundred dollar food around, Y/N. Be a brat.”

You pull on your hair as you let out a groan.

“It was like fifty,” You took a deep breath and tried your best to collect yourself and your emotions before walking back to the living room. You took a good look at Bucky who was still staring at the food, still with a blank look on his face, “Bucky.”

He looks at you, his eyes empty.

You took a deep breath.

“Olive branch.” You say.

“What?”  
  
“Last night, you told me something very personal,” he looks away, “I didn’t take that information for granted, okay? I didn’t forget it. And then this morning, I told you something about me. Remember?” Your voice was surprisingly calm now.

Bucky sighed as he leaned his elbow forward on his knee. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Do you know what that is? That’s us opening up to each other, trying to find some collective ground. Some peace, some kindness. I know you don’t like me, but I’m trying here. Please.” You had told him please hundreds of times before in the past but not like this. Never like this.

For a moment you almost saw an emotion on his face that wasn’t hatred or anger, or blank. For a moment you thought he had finally gave in.

“And those spring rolls, I got those for you.” You say.

You walk away, leaving him on the couch, and your now cold teriyaki on the table.

Minutes passed and you were huddled into the bed, blankets pulled up to your chin, when he finally sat down on his side. You could feel the bed dip down.

You could hear him let out a sigh.

“Come on, go eat your food. I picked it off the table and put it back on the plate for you.” Those simple words and gesture was enough for your heart to swell.

You didn’t move as you continued to stare at the same light across your window you had been staring at the entire time. You still couldn’t tell if it was an apartment or an office. You felt the bed shift again.

Then you felt it let up as he stood up. You closed your eyes, wishing sleep would take you away from this annoying situation.

“You want an olive branch? I couldn’t sleep next to you because the last time I slept next to a woman it was with someone I loved.” His words makes your throat suddenly sore. Were you going to cry because he was saying something you knew was so private to him? Was it because he was finally trying? Or was he trying to insult you? Which one? “ It was seventy-six years ago. That was the last time.”

You are both silent for a few moments longer. You hear Bucky clear his throat.

“There, now go eat your food.” He says.

“Was it Daisy?” You ask.

The silence is loud after your question as you suddenly want to take it back. What were you doing? Adding fuel to the fire?

“He told you?” His tone is incredulous and you know he’s referring to Steve.

“Yes. He told me about your girlfriend.”

Another beat of silence.

“She wasn’t my girlfriend. She was my fiancé.”

_God damn it, Steve._

Your eyes close together again. Tightly.

“How old was she?”

“Just a little younger than you.”

You suck in a deep breath as you feel your bottom lip shaking.

“I’m sorry.”

“Will you come eat now?”

“Only if you tell me the story.” He doesn’t say anything, “Olive branch.” You add.

That night he tells you about Daisy over a bowl of rice and teriyaki. It should’ve left you satisfied, but all it left you was with what was initially a small crush was now developing into something that terrified you.

You felt it as you watched him talk about their first kiss, and when he proposed. You felt it in your heart even more when he finally took a bite out of his spring roll.

\+ + +

_New York, NY 1938_

_There’s an eery feeling that surrounds your heart the moment you hear metal grinding on metal. It’s a screech that’s loud, piercing, and beautifully haunting._

_It reminds you of things you thought you had forgotten, like that time you walked down the street holding your father’s hand as a child. Your little digits would wrap around his one pointer finger, holding on tightly._

_At the exact moment you would look up behind your tiny lashes and see him wearing that hat that always resembled “dad”, and you would run your finger over that little crook of imperfection in his skin. You were young, you couldn’t exactly comprehend that feeling you felt during those moments; that tightness in your chest that came from wondering if this moment would last forever- though you already knew the answer._

_But whatever they were, those feelings, they were foreshadowing the future when you would long miss them, but little did you know it wasn’t the last time you would feel that feeling._

_People pass by in slow motion in a life that just doesn’t make sense to him. He knows it isn’t the end, that there’s something wrong, and nothing is ever right._

_He didn’t want to forget things that he never knew would one day make him fall apart. Apparently, there’s a name for that feeling, and it’s called melancholy._

_Bucky knew that feeling all too damn well and he would come to know it for decades on end._

_It flickers behind the glistening tears in his blue eyes when he watches a gentleman’s fingers ghost over the white and black keys of the grand piano in the corner of the fancy bar._

_He gulps. His little sister used to play._

_He swears that the keys and the haunting grinding almost hums along in perfect sync with his heart . He feels like this, whatever it is, isn’t forever._

_Standing at that moment, being happy and holding Daisy’s hand, was a passing memory in his mind. He feels the pain and he wants it to stop. He wants the hurt to stop, and more than anything, he wants to_ **_stay here_ ** _. He hears ascreeching scream echoing, coming from deep within his head, as if it was coming from the future. He trembles._

_“James.” It takes him a moment to notice there’s a soft hand on his left cheek and that the voice isn’t imaginary. He blinks slowly and looks towards the direction that the hand is coming from._

_It’s blonde and beautiful._

_For a fraction of a second he chuckles, almost relieved, and leans into the open palm. Clearly, he had been caught up in something that was not reality. Her blue eyes stare down at him in concern, her own starting to glisten from seeing how sad he looked._

_“Are you okay?”_

_Her question is genuine and concerning. Daisy tried to not feel fear as she watched the white fires behind his eyes, in a daze far away._

_His eyes open slowly and he smiles sweetly at the face above him. That sound of grinding metal returns, but this time it’s only just beautiful; so damn beautiful._

_He nods slowly andtenderly places a kiss in her hand, “Always, doll.” Daisy’s eyes look more easy now and he can tell that her worry has dissipated. Her frown turns into a smirk as he says, “That man sure knows how’da play a tune. It’s almost as beautiful as you."_

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They become friends. Also sexual sounds. If that makes sense? lol

#  **11**

He hated that he had to be back here, _again_. The resentment wasn’t necessarily because he had anything against seeking pleasure, even if it was in the most aberrant way possible, but it was because _you_ worked in this environment. Knowing what was going on just below where you worked - people fucking each other raw - made his skin crawl and he had no idea why. 

He doesn’t know why when he feels the cold brick behind him nor when he overhears two men just outside the back entrance.

Bucky takes shield around the corner, pulling his dark hood higher over his head as he does so.

“What time is the package supposed to arrive?” One of the man asks, in a heavy east European accent, “We have to head up to quarters right after. Something serious.”

“Tonight.” Is the only thing the other man says. His accent is the same as the first man.

Bucky hears the heavy footsteps of shoes on wet gravel, and he eyes for possible escapes incase he needs to divert himself.

“Silas wants to give us the run down, he should be in his room.” The first man says.

“Is she in there, too?” The second man asks. They both chuckle.

Bucky listens for the sound of the door closing. He peeks his head around the corner to see the back door close right behind the two men.

Waiting a few minutes and then standing up tall, he looks around one more time before going through the same door.

Bucky feels hot the second the door shuts behind him. The stairs led down to a dark stair case, at the bottom splitting in two. The room was mildly lit by a three candlelight fixtures that hung on the high ceilings. It glowed in a soothing yellow that made Bucky only slightly curious as to how they could make sex club look so sophisticated and inviting. It smelled nice, too. Like freshly washed linen.

Strange.

Vigilantly, he took the stair case, keeping left as he did so. At the bottom of the steps, he hears a door close and he turns around to see that the hallway led farther down the back. He looks at each cream-colored door that is separated by increments of maybe four feet each, and he knows that that must be where the men go to get their sexual release.

Bucky continues down the hallway towards the front. He sees a woman come from the top of the second pair of staircase down ahead, and he quickly finds a small entrance to what he hopes is a closet, and hides. With practice, he’s able to keep hidden but also keep his eye on the woman.

She wears a long white coat, that looks like faux leather, with a hood pulled over her blonde curls. The coat reaches the bottom of her knees. She wears high strapped nude heels that makes a sensual sound as she walks over the marble floors. Bucky takes note of the key she has in her hand. Bucky watches as she unlocks one of the inviting doors, going in, and then closing it behind her.

He wonders if that said door was for the men he had seen outside. He decides to continue his search as he pushes himself off the side of the wall. Sensing the sight is still clear, he continues to the rooms behind the second staircase, to the left he sees another hallway — Jesus hell — and to the right, a door. He decides to make a left.

This hallway is a little less decorated, and the floor beneath him is a bland black carpet. He notes that these doors don’t have key holes. When he hears a long moan, he halts and realizes that they also weren’t as sound proof either.

He hates this. He speeds up the pace of his walk, looking around to make sure the sight was clear, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. He hears a juggle of a door and he quickly ducks once more at the end of the second hallway, which thankfully was close by. He looks back to see it’s you and his fingers twitch.

His eyes furrow together.

_What were you doing?_

He watches as you struggle a bit with a pile of towels that are in your arms. Your foot closing the door behind you as you managed to not let them fall.

Bucky pushes himself away from the wall and struts over to you. To not startle you, he says your real name quietly.

It shocks you for a moment, and a little gasp escapes your lips as you find yourself spinning on your heel.

When you see Bucky you find yourself at ease, calming down quickly.

“I thought you were coming tonight.” You tell him.

He brings a finger up to his lips, motioning for you to be quiet, and then he’s pulling you into the closet you just walked out of.

You watch in disbelief as he takes the towels out of your arms, placing them on the empty table next to you.

You can barely seen him through the darkness, but just enough. The closet smelled musty, different than out in the hall.

“The hell are you doing, _Marina_?” He spats your fake Capitol name, looking at the towels, almost repulsed.

“I’m working, what does it look like?” You ask.

“Down here? I thought you were a bartender, not a —” his voice drifts as he looks at the towels, disgusted.

You look at the towels and back to his face, confused and mildly amused.

“Those are for the dishes.” You say, watching as his face tints into a blush color.

“I didn’t even know you were allowed access into this area.”

“Pietro says it’s fine when I need to get some supplies. But after taking this long to grab towels, I doubt he’ll let me have this privilege ever again.” You explain. Bucky lets out a small growl, leaning his arm over the top of your head. The proximity has your body on fire, “Bucky, relax.” You whisper, looking up at him with a tilt of your head, “I’ll be fine.”

You watch as his jaw ticks.

“I don’t like this place, you know that.” He says quietly.

“Yes, I know sex makes you very uncomfortable.”

The right side of this lips turns into an upset snarl.

“It’s not the sex. It’s these men, and how they use these women—”

“—there are men prostitutes, too, ya know? It’s not just women.”

“That’s besides the point, you know what I mean.”

You both freeze as you hear a distinctive sound. Your heart starts hammering away in your chest.

The echoes of two people definitely having sex in the room next to the closet, reverberates around the both of you. Bucky looks uncomfortable as his eyes look away from you, and your body up against his has never felt hotter.

The small closet didn’t help the situation as a man’s groan, announcing his release, forced Bucky to push himself off the wall and a good distance away from you.

Your breathing was harbored as you watched him turn away from you and run a hand through his hair.

“Everything you do bothers me, Y/N. I wanted to find you a different hot spot, it didn’t have to be here.” He says quietly, a slight roughness to his voice.

You found yourself feeling flushed, rejected, insulted, and attracted all at the same time.

“I’m sorry I can never please you,” you pushed him away with your arm as you turned to grab your things, “If you excuse me, I have work to do.”

Bucky watched as you grabbed the towels, knowing he’d hurt you once again.

But he couldn’t help that he didn’t want you working in an environment where Hydra men were sexualizing girls.

“Yeah, I got what I wanted, too. I’ll se you tonight.” Bucky says just before he watches you leave.

\+ + +

Just across the city in a glass tower, was a man in a tailored suit. He was standing tall in front of a glass window, a little girl with light brown curls held his hand. Next to her was an older man who wore a lab coat, a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.

Behind the glass was a little boy. He was face up, tubes coming in and out of his body. He was asleep.

“Daddy, will he be okay?” The little girl asked.

“He’ll be just fine, sweetheart.” The man says, squeezing her hand tighter.

The doctor shoots the man an apprehensive look. His eyes saying something completely different than the man’s answer.

“Ashen, this was the eleventh drug we’ve tried. His vitals are deteriorating —” the old man says.

“Keep trying.” The man, Ashen, says in a tight voice, not looking at the doctor.

The old man swallows hard, nods, and then walks away.

Ashen squeezes his daughter’s hand once more, his piercing green eyes not leaving the boy’s body for one moment.

“He’ll be fine.”

\+ + +

You had run into Bucky at the lobby after work. You had been in an alright mood, as alright as you could be after your awkward encounter that afternoon. You were optimistic that tonight would be one of the Olive Branch nights and not an Argument night. You had flashed him a smile and if you looked close enough, you could even see his eyes soften a bit.

It was going well until you both took the elevator up to your floor.

Because of cameras, you didn’t ask him directly about his plans for tonight’s mission, you had simply asked him if maybe he could pitch you in for something. If there was anything you could do to help him.

He didn’t even look at you as he said no and it made your teeth clench.

“Nothing? You can’t tell me anything?” You asked angrily.

“No. Now stop.”

The tension between the two of you was touchable, like a volcano begging to erupt.

He maintained a neutral face that made you seethe. Was he really this unbothered by how you felt?

You were seeing red as you followed Bucky into the loft.

You didn’t wait an extra second to grab him by his arm, forcing him to stop.

“What the hell is it? Is it me?” Your voice was loud in the dark apartment. He didn’t say anything as you watched him, your eyes dark and heavy. You could tell Bucky was breathing hard by the way the muscles in his back moved up and down. Maybe he was bothered. His silence pissed you off even more, “Huh? Which is it?” You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, trying to keep the shaking at bay as you let go of his arm. You were tired of how he kept treating you. From the second you met him up until this afternoon when he was disgusted by you.You shook your head and walked around him, completely fed up, “I’m done.”

You were shocked when you didn’t even get that far into the bedroom space before his hand caught your elbow. You loathed that his skin on yours made you hot in the best way.

You slowly turned your head and looked at it, halfway shocked and halfway insulted. Bringing your head up, you slide your hood off your head. He watched you intently as your face was revealed.

It was obvious you were hurt. You realizing he noticed this, but still did nothing, made your throat burn even more. You looked away from his pretty blue eyes.

“I’ve had enough of these games,” you says slowly and quietly, eyes gazing to the floor, “You don’t trust me, you don’t _like_ me,” you forced through clenched teeth, “you don’t like anything I do, it’s never good enough, you blame my hair, my _tattoo._ Like it means something _._ ” you tried to shake your arm out of his tight grasp, shaking it manically,“I’m never good enough, no matter what I say or do.” Bucky stared at you with sad eyes, something you weren’t expecting, and you found yourself scoffing, “Another change of heart?” You asked with a humorless tilt of your head, “really?”

Bucky sucked in a deep breath.

You attempted to snap your arm to yourself once more and this time he allowed you to. You made your way towards the closet, ripping off your coat in the process.

He watched you without batting an eyelash.

“And you know what’s the worst of all? Aside from all that shit you throw in my face, you don’t respect me.” You whispered, kicking off your boots.

“I do respect you.” His shout was unexpected to the both of you.

The room went silent again, minus for your breathing.

You looked over at him only to see him walk over to you with sharp eyes and lips in a tight line. He was upset.

You stared up at him, more confused now than when you woke up this morning.

You shook your head as you stared up at his blue hues. You felt your body heat up again until there was no more than a foot of space between the both of you.

“What are you hiding inside that head of yours, Bucky?” You asked so softly it sounded like a prayer. He swallowed and you watched his Adams apple like a hawk. His eyes were intense as you drifted your own back to his, “What are you afraid of?” His eyes searched yours as you grabbed his flesh hand, “ _Tell me._ ”

Liked a bucket of cold water, he turned away from you, ripping his hand out of yours.

You brushed away a lonely tear that had managed to escape your eye, and looked out the window and into the city.

“You aren’t meant for this.” He starts. He walks over to his side of the bed, sitting himself down, “You’re _young_ ,” his arms were on each of his legs as he stared down at his hands, fidgeting, “You didn’t have to put yourself out on the line,” his voice grew stronger, “putting your own life at risk, when you still have so many years ahead of you.” You turned back to look at him and you could see the pain in his eyes as he stared at you, “It might seem like it’s the right thing for you to do and you might _think_ it’ll feel liberating once you kill him, but throwing your youth away is only going to get you killed. Maybe not literally, but you won’t be the same girl ever again. The fact that you are even _willing_ to put all that on the line pisses me off. You are a young woman.” He runs a hand through his soft hair, “I understand that the world is a mess right now, but this isn’t the end. You have so much in store for you in your young life. You, agreeing to meet me or even come on this mission with me, is the worst mistake you could’ve ever made and I judge you harshly for it.” He bent down and removed his one shoes, one by one with his metal arm, “Because of your reckless actions and uncivil motives, you’re going to turn out just like me — scarred, ruined, and fucked in the head.”

It all made sense now. You feel your eyebrows come together as your facia expression softens. You walk up to his side of the bed.

_Tonight’s chosen option was Olive Branch._

“You care about my life?” You ask. He doesn’t look at you as his jaw tightens.

_Well, he sure had a stupid way of showing it._

“It could’ve been another agent,” he says, “someone with more experience, Steve could’ve been in on this mission and we would’ve gotten it all saved and done without your help. Not because I don’t value it, but because you should value yourself. You didn’t have to sign up for this.”

“My parents —“  
  
“I know!” He stands up suddenly, making you take a step back, stunned, “I know he killed them, and I know that feeling, Y/N. I lost my parents, too. And my baby sister. I know how that feels. It’s fucking hard, but what do you do when something like that happens? What do you do when you need help sorting it out? You let the professionals do their job.” You felt hot tears in your throat at his sharp words. He points out the the direction out the window, “Are you sure you’re ready to deal with years of PTSD and trauma? Are you _sure_ you’re ready to kill someone because they killed someone you love?”

Bucky watched as tears filled your eyes. Surprisingly, his face was also full of emotion.

“I know—” you try again, more softly this time and with a broken voice, looking away.

“No,” his voice was soft this time, too, “You _don’t_ know. I’m not saying this because I don’t think you are capable, I know you’ve already killed someone, killing isn’t a physically hard thing to do, I’m saying this because you deserve to know the truth about what’s going to happen to you. It’s going to change everything.” He steps up to you, “Tell me you get that.”

You look down at the ground, unable to stare at him so vulnerably anymore. You watched as his metal finger moved at his side and you grabbed it with your hand, instinctually.

“Y/N…”

The ridges of the metal felt so strange under your touch.

“I understand the projection of your feelings, even though they were completely uncalled for. I’m starting to get it, now. Why it is you are so angry about me being here,” you swallow thickly, eyes darting up to meet his again as you don’t let go of his hand, “But all I beg of you is that you continue to take the chance to get to know who I am. Be my friend.” Your eyes darting over his face and you felt your face burning over how intensely he stared back down at you, “Because if what you said is all true, if I really am going to be ruined after all this, I’m going to need you there with me.”

_Humanity is now in our hands._

\+ + +


	12. Chapter 12

#  **12**

Bucky sits perked behind one of the many holographic billboards.

Below him, he watches two black parked cars in an empty ally off one of the towers. Before you had gotten off your shift this afternoon, he had done his own research on the cityscape. He tracked one of the similar vehicles from outside the sex club and quickly got insight into where the delivery would possibly be made. He knew he had a fifty-fifty chance. Luckily the chances were in his favor and he had been right.

As he waits, his minds slowly drifts to the thought of you waiting for him at home.

He had given you a promise tonight. After you had asked him to give you a chance to get to know you, he didn’t object to the idea. He didn’t let go of your hand either.

He had his doubts the moment he met you, but last night only furthered his suspicions.

It did not go unnoticed by him that you liked him.

He wasn’t sure how to react when you held his hand. His jaw had gone rigid as he tried to look from your eyes. _Open up to me_ they had said.

He knew, without a doubt, that conforming to being on your good side was the only way he could keep you from being in his way. He told you the truth when he said he wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into, and that he didn’t want you to die, but he didn’t want this mission ruined either. He would have to keep sharing a part of him if he were to gain your proper cooperation.

He just didn’t like that you were developing something for him because of it. That was never his intention.

Bucky wasn’t stupid. He knew when a girl liked him. Maybe it’s been over sixty years for him, but he was asleep for most of it anyway.

Your eyes were pleading, and he knew you were thinking you weren’t being obvious. But you were _so_ obvious.

His heart felt heavy in his chest as he tore his hand out of yours. You were his co-worker and that’s all you would ever be to him.

You were a kid who was still learning.

Without a second thought, he had pulled his hand away and changed into a separate outfit to prepare for his part of the mission.

You didn’t ask him where he was going anymore, and he was glad. It’s what he had wanted.

A car door slamming shut pulls him away from his thoughts, and Bucky perks himself lower behind one of the steel beams. He was just far up enough to where he couldn’t be seen, but he could hear the talking down below with the help of his super hearing.

One of the men that he recognizes from earlier that day, steps out of the driver’s seat. Another man, who Bucky doesn’t recognize, comes out of the second car, but from the back seat.

“ _What’s the cost for this next one, M?_ ” The second man asks. He had an American accent, Bucky notes. He had short, light brown hair, and light eyes. He was lean and looked to be around Bucky’s physical age, mid to late thirties.

“ _Around five hundred thousand. Delivery at the tower. We can keep going —trying to find it, but it is not looking good. We might have to look somewhere else_.” The first man with the heavy European accents says.

The American looks torn as he ruffles his hair. He sticks his hand into his light blue suit pocket and hands the European what Bucky assumes must be money. It was folded up too tightly for him to see.

“ _No need. We’ll keep trying. Put it in the back seat._ ” The American says.

Bucky squints as he tries to see what exactly is “it”.

The American gets into his original seat in the back, closing the door behind him.

Two men, one from the passenger side and one from the driver’s side, goes to trunk of M’s car.

All three are seen pulling out a white and medium sized box from the back. The second car’s trunk also opens, and they place it inside.

Not much of interest happens afterwards. Bucky watches as both parties go their separate ways.

Bucky follows the American’s car.

\+ + +

When Bucky comes home that night, it’s a quarter to ten o’clock. He finds you on the couch facing the door.

Your feet are up and your eyes are closed as you hum a song.

Bucky looks away and clears his throat. Your eyes snap open, watching as he makes his way towards the dining area. He removes his jacket and drapes it over one of the chairs, not even looking back over at you again.

“Hey, how’d it go?” You ask.

He pauses, teeth clenching together. He knows you’re coming up behind him before he even has to turn around.

You watch as he pulls out some other documents from your work station. His eyes were straight ahead and focused on his task.

“Good.” He tosses you a treat.

“That’s great. What did you find out?” You take it promptly.

Bucky rummages through the papers before he pulls a blank one out. He reaches across the table again and grabs a lonely pen.

“I’m not sure yet. Looks like some kind of experiments they are doing, but so far they haven’t been successful. I’m not sure what it is. They’re working for one man in particular, but I have no idea who he is just yet.” You watch as he writes a word and then underlines it three times before slamming the pen down, “I followed them here.”

You look down as he turns the paper to you.

“ _22 Melbourne_? Is that an address?” You ask.

“It’s the tower right there.” You follow his finger as he points out the window, but towards the right side. There’s a large glass building towering a bit higher than yours. Brilliant, bright, and slightly intimidating, “Whatever Hydra is doing in there, I have a feeling it’s serious, and it could lead us to our guy.”

“That’s great. What’s the next step?” You ask, eagerly.

Bucky sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Now we wait until I can get a name on this guy. I’ll stake out again tomorrow night, probably a lot longer than I stayed tonight.”

“What about me?” You ask.

He pauses, then turns around to face you. His face is blank.

“You continue to do your job, which is be a bartender, _Marina_.” He says matter of factly.

“Bucky—”

“Just,” he cuts you off, his face quickly softens after he takes a deep breath, “Just until I get a better lead.” He searches your eyes and begs that you will take his offer.

You search his eyes for any doubt in them, for any sign that he is lying and taking back everything you both shared in your conversation before he had left.

“You promise?” Your voice is small and hopeful.

There’s a brief pause and a flicker of his eyes between your own and the space behind your head.

“Yes.”

\+ + +

You had found out how to use the grocery delivery on the AI. While Bucky had been showering, you had gotten all the proper groceries needed for the week. You decided you would prepare some pasta tonight.

You were just putting away the last of the items in the obnoxiously large refrigerator when you heard Bucky stepping into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

You look over to see him look the most normal you’ve probably ever seen him. He wore a white t-shirt with black sweatpants. His hair was still damp from the shower and he was bare feet. You watched the fabric of his shirt stretch tightly across his pecks as he reached up to ruffle his hair in a boyish manner that left you blushing.

“I’m going to make us some dinner. Do you like pasta?” You bypass his question. You watch as his face comically scrunches up. He was confused.

“Uhm,” he looks at the fridge and then at you, “ _sure_.” He answers suspiciously.

You give him a bright smile.

“Great.”

You start putting things on the counter: tomatoes, knives, onions, cream, parsley, penne noodles…

You’re about to start chopping onions when he finally comes up next to you.

You feel the heat of his belly up against your elbow and the smell from his body wash wafted up into your personal space. You watch in your peripheral as he grabs the cream.

He reads it for a moment.

“Did you buy this stuff?”

“Trust me, buying ingredients is way cheaper than us getting take out everyday. I’d hate to spend another five hundred dollars on spring rolls.” You say lightly as you finish chopping the onions.

He doesn’t say anything else, but he does take a seat behind you in the breakfast nook area.

About ten minutes pass by before you’ve finally had enough of the overbearing silence.

“So you had a sister?” You ask, putting the two tomatoes in a bowl of water on the stove.

You look over your shoulder when he doesn’t respond. You expect him to look bored or angry, but instead he looks worried. He looks at you as if he’s inspecting your brain and it makes you uncomfortable. You don’t know what he’s thinking and you didn’t like it. You can feel your cheeks burn when he asks the next question.

“Why do you want to know about my family?” He asks softly.

Why did his question make you so uncomfortable?  
  
“I want to get to know you.” You answer, turning to the noodle pot to see if they were al dente yet.

He continued to stare at you, still hesitant to answer your question. But it wasn’t because he didn’t want to tell you, but it was because he knew what you were trying to do. You wanted to him to open his heart to you, and he knew exactly what that would do for you and your crush.

He didn’t want to make this anymore complicated than it had to be.

“Come on, Bucky, it’s just a question.” You implore.

Bucky takes a deep breath.

He shuffles in his seat and then finally looks away from you.

“Yeah, I had a little sister. Her name was Rebecca.” He says.

Your heart beats away in your chest, happy that he was telling you this. You cover the pasta and the sauce and sit down across from him. Bucky doesn’t meet your eyes.

“That’s a pretty name.” You say.

“You didn’t read all this about me in your history class?” He asks with a perk of a brow.

You smirk a bit before answering, “Sure. But I’d rather hear it all from the source himself.” You say honestly.

Then, he looks at you. Your eyes meet and for the first time you see a piece of sincerity in his eyes.

“After my parents both died, she was taken to boarding school. I stayed behind and trained at the military camp.” He spoke calmly, the sound of the boiling water the only thing louder than his rumble, “Last time I saw her she was a little girl. Never saw her again.”

You couldn’t stand to look him in the eye as he said the last part. You look away, sad.

“I’m very sorry.”

You could see him shrug even from just looking straight at the table.

“I miss her. I miss them, but I can’t keep thinking about that. It’s not good for me.”

“But you do think about it?”

“Of course I think about it. I think about everything, all the time.”

You feel an immense sadness in his tone. You knew what he was referencing to, and for the first time you never thought of looking outside his asshole attitude to wonder why he was so angry with the world.

“Is that why you look at this like it’s a kamikaze mission?” Your question is followed by another big silence.

You feel afraid to bring your gaze to meet his again, but you know this is something you desperately need the answer to. You find Bucky fidgeting with his fingers out on the table in front of you, his eyes on them instead of you.

You place your crossed arms on the table and lean forward.

“I know this is a tough thing to ask right now, and I’m probably asking in the worst way possible, but I need to know this, Bucky. I need to know what’s going on with you, emotionally. I don’t want you to die, and I don’t want to die, either. I need you for this.” You say, delicately.

It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually looks up at you and answers your question.

“This mission isn’t for me to kill myself once it’s over, but if I were to die at the end of this, Y/N —” the look he gives you is intense and makes you see the reality behind his gaze, “I wouldn’t really mind.” You feel your throat grow tight at his words. You can see the hurt in his eyes, the past that he suffered, and you don’t know what to say.

You wish you knew what you could say to make him see that nothing that ever happened to him is his fault, that this isn’t the end.

You want nothing more than to save him from himself.

He was an ass to you, and it was obvious he had limited amount of respect for you, but through the olive branches he kept offering you and through these small moments of relevance, you were catching a glimpse into the _real_ him. You could see through his facade.

He was someone you had more in common with than he could ever know. You couldn’t help but care about him.

Maybe it was empathy you felt, maybe it was something else entirely.

\+ + +

You both eat your pasta out in the dining area. Bucky doesn’t tell you how it is, but he doesn’t need to when you watch him finishing his third plate.

You’re finishing your glass water when an idea enters your mind.

“You know your favorite song?”

Bucky’s fork hovers over his lips for a moment before he responds.

“Yeah?”

“I never heard it before. What are the lyrics?” You ask quietly.

Bucky chews his noodle slowly. Swallowing it down with the help of a glass of water before answering you.

“It’s a love song. It’s slow. Made to be listened to on a record player.” He adds.

The edge of your lips perk up.

“You had a record player?”  
  
His eyes soften again. There was that twinge in your heart again.

“Yes.”

You tried your best to picture nineteen forties Bucky listening to a record player and it wasn’t hard to. Especially when he sat across from you looking modern and brand new.

He cleaned up his plate and then took yours and his to the kitchen.

You see him take a turn towards the bathroom to wash up. Quickly, you go to the television in the living room and pull up the music application. You had snooped around earlier and discovered that The Capitol kept all the songs up until the war. Nothing new had ever been released.

You hated yourself for not taking advantage of when he was gone to listen to the song, but you only remembered when he was around.

You wanted to listen to it though, you wanted to just figure out that part of him that you knew was still there.

It didn’t take you long to find the song.

You were about twenty seconds in when you heard the foot steps behind you. You quickly turned around.

The look on Bucky’s face was completely unreadable. He looked like he was in a trance, even a little lost. His eyes were completely glossed over.

The music was quiet, you hadn’t wanted him to hear. But damn you for forgetting about his super hearing.

The beautiful and romantic song played quietly. Suddenly, you could picture him listening to this and you felt yourself feeling pity for him.

_If you only knew, how in love with you…_

You saw his Adam’s apple bobble up and down, and his eyes finally moved from behind you to your eyes.

“God, Bucky. I’m sorry. I thought you would take longer. I didn’t mean for you to hear.” You scrambled for the control and quickly shut it off as fast as you humanly could.

When you looked back at him he was still staring at you, but this time his brows were pulled together. He looked confused and utterly distraught.

“Bucky?” You ask quietly, a bit afraid of what you had done.

You tentatively walk up to him, keeping your arms at your side as you do so. His gaze travels down to your hand as you place the control down gently onto the couch.

“What happened to your hand?” His voice is gravelly and filled with emotion.

You look down at ugly bandaid on your palm. You had forgotten all about it.

“Oh, I got hurt at work today. A glass broke and I was cleaning it up. Accidentally got cut.” You said quickly. You shake your head to yourself, not knowing how any of this was relevant.

His eyes are still on your hand.

“Come here.” He says.

You follow him down the hall and into your shared bathroom. You watch as he sits down the lid and asks you to sit on it. You do so, in a trance.

You watch as he opens the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a black box. When he opens it on the sink you see small medical supplies like bandaids, ointments, and gauze.

He returns to you with a cotton pad. You smell the rub on alcohol already on it.

“Give me your hand.” His tone is authoritative. He pulls back your band aid with his human hand in disappointment, “I told you to be careful.” He tosses the bandaid in the automatic disposable machine.

You stare up at his face as he looks at your cut, almost angry. You remember the romantic songand you try to picture him playing that song.

Playing that song for _her._

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

His touch is warm and gentle when he rubs the cotton pad on your flesh around the cut. You hiss at the sting.

“You didn’t clean it right. It could’ve gotten infected.” He turns to grab the ointment. When he turns to you again, he grabs your hand in a way he hadn’t before and it makes you look up at him shocked. Your faces were no more than a foot away, “I can’t afford to lose my partner.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say again.

You watch as he works on your injury. He finishes off by wrapping it with the gauze. He’s about to pull his hand away when you grab it.

He feels his own breathing pick up, and it gets worst when he sees the way you are looking at him.

He watches as your eyes go down to his lips and he uses a little more strength to pull his hand out of yours. He turns his head away. He couldn’t do this to you. He couldn’t lead you on.

He knows he most likely hurt you, but it was for the best.

He couldn’t complicate these next six months more than it already was.

\+ + +


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You confess your feelings to Bucky, it doesn't go as planned.

#  **13**

Last night had gone just like all the other nights. You both went to sleep at a reasonable hour, exhausted from the day’s events. But then you had turned over onto your side, and you found yourself facing his front. As you had shifted over the sheets, your fingers had accidentally grazed over his. Realizing what you had done, you slowly pulled your hand away and his breathing became oddly distinctive to you. You closed your eyes again as his breathing evened out. Thankfully, his eyes were closed in a deep sleep. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, that for a fraction of a second, his pinky had nearly wrapped around your own.

It’s been a few days since you both shared that almost kiss in the bathroom. You thought maybe something had finally happened inside of him to help that thick wall that he had built around himself, to finally come down. You had seen a side of him that you had never seen before. 

It comes as a shock to you, but the way he tended to your small injury had given you the courage that you thought would take months for you to gain.

Without hesitation, after he cleaned up your cut, you had reached for his hand before he could get too far away. The thought that you had been right about him all along was running through your head as you touched him and as your eyes met.

You were left cold when he then turned away from you.

The next few days after went by very quietly.

You worked your days at the bar as _Marina_ , trying to find any sign of Silas that you could. It was your duty to try to get what info you could about a man Bucky still hadn’t gone into detail about.

At night when you came home, more small moments were shared between the two of you. There were uncertain glances that reminded you of that _almost kiss_ , a representation of a small flicker of hope between the two of you.

Tonight was different.

You sat on the open balcony on top of the tower. You never came out here before, the hesitancy having something to do with the fear of being seen mixed in with the guilt that you were living well. Today, you decided, would be different. You would take a step towards being selfish, for a few moments at least.

The second you stepped out and the wind blew over your face, you knew you had made a good choice. Your eyes gazed over the tall and captivating bright lights of the city. You stoped just before the railings and you sat down.

As you looked down, you wondered if he would be home soon. You wished that he would continue to open up to you, or at least give you something else. You needed one more sign from him.

The winter air blew through your hood and over the sharp edges of your face. Closing your eyes, you tried desperately to shove down the feelings you had felt so deeply for Bucky. They had developed quickly, catching you off guard.

It didn’t help that he was finally shedding his skin for you. You knew that you eventually wouldn’t be able to hold it in anymore, and that you needed to tell him how you felt. That moment between the two of you in the bathroom still gave you hope that maybe he _did_ feel the same. The last four days gave you even more hope, leaving you optimistic. 

Right?

He was starting to be kind to you. he was silent, but not in the angry and brooding way that he used to be. He was changing.

You brought your legs up to your chest as you continued to stare into the massive city. 

A small Drizzle of icy rain began to fall onto your clothed arm. You watched intently as the sprinkle left little circle shaped marks over the dark material.

You heard someone come up behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was him.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice was gruff.

His eyes moved over your back like a hawk as he asked the question. He had been surprised when he didn’t see you inside the apartment. You were usually always home when he got back. It didn’t take long for him to spot you outside under the night sky.

“I was waiting.” You say naturally, too confidently. So much you regret it as soon as you say it.

You look over and you find yourself noticing a flicker of fear in his eyes. His eyes dart quickly down to the ground, and he shoves one of his hands into the right pocket of his black bomber-style jacket. It was leather and it contrasted with the pastel blues in his eyes.

A small smile plays on your lips as you look away, “I’m kidding.“

You hear him clear his throat. Moments later, you hear the shuffle of his footsteps as he approaches you even closer.

“Look, we need to talk.” He says. His words and tone make you nervous. 

Ever since the almost kiss, he had started to change. He no longer shot cold and insulting words at you. Instead, he seemed to have been starting to hide himself into a shell. It was of no shock to you that you felt apprehensive as those words escaped his lips. 

You wondered what it was that he wanted to tell you.

Was he finally going to open up his heart to you? Was this finally it? Was this the moment girls always talked about in those cheesy romance books and sappy movies?

He stood there in silence for a moment longer than necessary, and you found yourself, once more, tilting your head up to look up at him. His eyes were looking over the city across the balcony, and you could tell he was lost in some kind of trance that you could not exactly pinpoint. You watched as he took the life and sounds around him, just like you had earlier. The colorful lights bounced off his face and you watched as some raid drops landed on his lashes and cheeks. His eyes were sharp as was his jawline. He looked powerful but simultaneously so gentle.

He was a nice guy. You knew he was.

His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed thickly, and you felt the fingers of your right hand wanting to inch closer towards him, maybe hold his own.

You feel your skin burning in anticipation as you remembered what happened only hours ago.

It was yesterday evening, before bed, and you had just finished your shift. 

He was sitting on one of the couches and he had been silent as he watched you make your way over to your room where you slowly began discarding your coat and your scarf.

You had felt his eyes on you — you swear you did — but when you had looked over your shoulder, his eyes were casted downwards, looking at something in his lap.

This was just many of the small moments that left you wanting more, especially your body.

Finally, he looked down at you. His eyes were a dark blue tonight. Not the pastel like you’d thought. 

“Can we talk inside?” He asks.

You felt your heart hammer away inside of you.

“Yeah, sure.“ 

You both made your way inside, the warmth wrapping you like a blanket. You listened as he closed the balcony door behind you. Sliding your hood off your head, you continued you walk into your bedroom and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck. You were burning.

Your skin started to tingle with some kind of desire you had never felt before. Was this it?

You’re not too sure when exactly it happened, when your feelings started to manifest into something deeper than it initially was. 

You knew for a fact, that from the moment you met him, that you thought he was attractive. 

You couldn’t deny the feelings that went through your body when your eyes had met for the very first time in that tent. You could’ve swore that he could have possibly felt the same way. It was in the air, like electricity. That’s the way it had felt back at camp.

That theory quickly went out the window when you had your first interaction. He looked at you and spoke to you like you were muck beneath his shoe and it hurt. He had been no different than everyone else you met in your life.

As time went on, and you began to see other parts of him that revealed why he could possibly be treating you the way he was, your point of view started to shift. You caught onto the fact that he was also starting to willingly sharing with you parts of himself that you thought maybe he wouldn’t share for a while. You started to reconsider that maybe he _did_ feel the same and he was just afraid to open up.

The last few days only further proved that to you. When you heard the glass door finally click, announcing that it was closed, that’s when you turned around to face him. 

Neither of you were expecting him to be as close to you as he was. He stood there with a look of surprise in his eyes as his body tensed, realizing how physically close you two were. Just another step forward and his chest would’ve been touching yours. You gazed up into his eyes as innocent as ever.

His eyes ran over your face and his lips were plump, probably from bitting on them again. You could feel the air between you thicken.

To your genuine surprise, he quickly looked away, taking a step back as he did so.

“Bucky...” you whispered quietly.

His eyebrows came together.

“I got his name and I figured out what they are transporting.” His tone was soft. His voice said the words, but his mind was far away, you could tell. He turned his body completely away from you this time and walked over towards the nightstand. 

Your heart was still beating quickly enough to where you could barely register that he was talking about the mission and not about the two of you.

Your body hadn’t caught up just yet.

You swallowed thickly.

“Bucky, wait—”

He cleared his throat. Not loudly, but enough to signal that he was trying to shake off whatever the hell just happened.

“His name is Ashen,” he took a deep breath, “I need you to keep your ear out for that name. I think he’s more important than this Silas guy. It appears what they are trying to find is a cure. I just don’t know who or what for.” He seemed to ramble.

Your eyes knit together, finally letting his words sink in.

“A cure for the virus? Do you think they’re just taking precautions?” You ask.

He didn’t speak for a few seconds as he continued to rummage through the nightstand drawer.

“No, I think there’s someone here who’s infected. Someone close to him. We need to keep an eye and ear out on this progress.”

You thought for moment, finally recuperating. You eyes darted back out the balcony doors.

“That means that the virus has bypassed the walls. The city isn’t completely safe as we thought.”

“I think they’re keeping a tight lock on this patient. But yes, it’s here.”

You walked up to him and he stilled. His back was still to you. You didn’t like when he wore his coats and jackets. You preferred his t-shirts. You liked that he could have his metal arm visible to you without any hesitation.

You felt him go rigid as the silence grew around you both.

He kept running away from this and it bothered you. You weren’t crazy. Not anymore. You could see straight through his facade.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t keep your feelings down anymore. You knew you had to tell him, and soon.

For some reason you were scared. Scared of what? You had no idea. Maybe it was the lack of experience. You never told a guy you liked him before, especially not _this_ kind of like.

“Good job.” Was all you could muster out.

You saw him give a short nod before closing the drawer and walking away, leaving you standing there and staring at the wall.

You were a little confused, but mostly, completely unsatisfied.

The next morning at work you kept your ear out for two names: Silas and Ashen. 

You were tired, and quite frankly, getting bored.

You had been thinking about speaking to Bucky about how you weren’t too optimistic or happy about the pace this mission was going. 

For one, you didn’t feel like you were contributing to anything at all. It felt like _he_ was doing most of the work. You felt like it was going by too slowly to appear like any progress was being made. There were no big results at all. 

Granted, you knew this mission was six months for a reason — it was to be done meticulously and carefully. It _was_ an undercover mission, after all. But you couldn’t help but feel like you were a worthless chess piece.

You knew you needed to speak to him about letting you be more involved. You couldn’t believe you found yourself even thinking these things. Just a few weeks ago you had tried to make it clear to Captain Rogers that you wanted to do this alone, and now here you were complaining that Bucky Barnes wasn’t letting you participate enough.

As you mixed another drink for another customer that afternoon, you couldn’t help but feel jealous as you watched one of the provocative and gorgeous women go down the stairs. She was curvy and had long black hair. You were jealous of what she was about to feel. You found yourself blushing at the thoughts that ran through your head.

You were a virgin. You’ve never even been kissed before. 

You craved that feeling so much. Having gone most of your life being ridiculed or bullied had made it hard for you to find someone to date. Even when you tried to live independently from your parents, Boston was a small town. People talked and that made it difficult.

Bucky was the first man you found yourself wanting to do those things to. He was the first man to ever give you a chance to express yourself at least a little bit.

Knowing what those men and women were doing below you, you began to slowly feel yourself not being able to control your feelings anymore. It frustrated you that Bucky was also not making a move. You knew without a doubt that he felt _something_ similar _._

It crossed your mind that you never really spent this much time with a man at least not to this extent of intimacy, so maybe your radar was off a little bit, but you knew you weren’t that crazy. There was never this kind of spark and electricity when you were with Will.

As you watched the couple continuing to kiss inside of the bar, you knew what you had to do when you got home that night. You were going to put an end to this torturous game.

You pulled the collar of your overcoat higher over your neck as you felt the skin there being slightly exposed.

They couldn’t see your tattoo. Take a deep breath, you got back to work. You knew you couldn’t be distracted. You continued to keep an eye and ear out for Silas and Ashen.

So far, nothing.

\+ + +

It was a slow night. 

You hadn’t seen anyone of interest and Bucky was going to lay low for the night. You told him your thoughts on picking things up, to which he responded that they’ve got new things in store for the following week, so you shouldn’t hold your breath. 

After a hot shower, you found Bucky packing some things away from the day and then making his way into the kitchen. As you slipped on a pair of socks, you listened intently as he poured himself a glass of water from the fridge filter.

You felt your nerves boil as you anticipated finally telling him how you felt. You pictured him telling you he felt it too, but that he’d want to take things slow. You envisioned him apologizing for masking his fear with hatred. You were prepared for that. 

The different outcomes and scenarios, all positive, played in your mind.

Your eyes darted over the city again, a view you could never get sick of. 

The opening and closing of the closet door made you snap your head around. You had been too distracted by your imaginaries to hear him step back into the bedroom.

Bucky was pulling out a pair of black sweats and a black shirt, most likely getting ready for his own shower.

You knew that if you were to wait one more moment, you would no longer have the guts to do what you were about to. 

You took a deep breath and crawled towards the end of the bed. You pushed yourself up onto your feet and began walking over to him.

“Bucky, can we talk?” You ask, cringing to yourself at how small you sounded.

He was quiet. You watched as his jaw tensed, closing the closet door. He looked over at you, his clothes at his side in his hand.

You swallowed as you diverted your eyes to over his right shoulder.

“I—” you started, but your voice broke off. This was scarier than you thought it would be. You felt the palms of your hand begin to sweat and you could feel your heart hammer away in your chest. You looked back at Bucky’s face to see that he was just as apprehensive as you were. You chuckled to yourself and started fidgeting with your hands. You looked down at them, “Bucky, look, I didn’t expect to…” your voice drifts away, and you quickly push your hair behind your ear nervously.

“Y/N,” the way he said your name sounded like he was tired.

“I like you.” Your chest finally felt light as the words escaped your lips. It was eerily silent. It took a moment for you to finally look back up at him. He was peeking up at you from behind his long lashes. He bit his bottom lip, and looked away from you. You took a step closer, “I have feelings for you.” he turned his head again and you watched as he looked at you in a way he never had looked at you before and your heart swelled immensely inside of your chest. 

This was it.

His lips were slightly parted as he blinked. He looked surprised and not upset or disgusted. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe he was still afraid, you thought.

“I know you feel it. These last few weeks have only further proved that.” Your eyes soften as a small smile played on the edge of your lips.

Every word sounded wrong to you, but you had never done this before. You had never felt _this_ before.

Bucky sucked in a small breath and he tilted his head. He straightened himself up a bit, but he still had that same look in his eyes.

“Bucky—” you reached out for his arm and he suddenly took a large step back away from you.

You felt yourself stiffen at the way he reacted and your smile quickly slid off your face.

He _did_ look afraid.

“Y/N,” At his tone, you feel something you never felt before. You recognized what it was immediately. It was pity. That was the look he had given you, “You’re a nice girl,” your heart beat away again, “but,” _but._ You felt yourself crushing in on itself as you realized he was turning you down. It felt awful, “I don’t feel that way about you.” He said it softly. You knew he was being sincere, and this only further made you feel worst. You felt yourself being the one to take a step back this time this time. You couldn’t physically breathe anymore. You didn’t even know what you were feeling. You weren’t prepared for this. You watched as he continued to give you that look, “Y/N, please, I don’t want to make things awkward between us.” You felt yourself continuing to find it hard to breathe as you looked down by his feet. 

This was not how you had imagined telling a guy you liked him. This was _not_ what you were expecting. How could you have been so blind?

He didn’t like you.

He didn’t have those same feelings you had when you looked at him.

He wasn’t attracted to you. You had imagined it all.

You never felt rejection before. This hurt.

For weeks you pictured him maybe saying he could give it a chance, for weeks you pictured him finally giving in and being kind to you. Now you felt foolish for being so damn delusional.

How could you have been so blind?

You saw the tears as they clouded your vision. His feet became blurry shapes.

“Okay.” You say with a broken voice, “I just, I thought—-” you couldn’t even find the words you wanted to say as you finally looked up at him again. Why did you look up? This time you couldn’t contain your tears as your face broke and you quickly wiped your tears away through a controlled sob. You felt horrible. You wiped the other side of your face and walked directly past him, “It’s okay, we can forget this happened.” You managed to croak out.  
  
“Y/N, please,” you felt him reach for your elbow and you quickly snatched it away from his reach.

“It’s not your fault!” You snapped. Your voice echoed around the room. You pulled your arm close to your chest as you watched him become uneasy. He looked sorrowful. You took a deep breath as you ran both your hands up your face, “it’s not your fault.” You repeated. 

There was no sound except for your sniffing and the rain now hitting against the glass.

“You’ll find a guy your age, you don’t want an old thing like me, anyway.” He thought that his words would help but they didn’t. He didn’t know about your life and what you’ve been through — all the bullying and having no friends — and he didn’t know that that sentence didn’t change how you felt.

He repeated your name again and it hurt, again.

You wiped your nose on the back of your hand.

“We’ll continue our mission. Let’s forget I said anything, okay?” You felt embarrassed, exposed. You couldn’t even look at him anymore, not when he stared at you so intensely knowing that you harbored non-platonic feelings for him.

How could you have been so dumb?

“I think that would be best.” He says, softly and carefully. 

\+ + +

Bucky cursed himself in his head as he dried off in the bathroom. The steam continued to linger in the air and he considered staying in there for a few more minutes.

This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

He didn’t want feelings to complicate this mission. Most of all, unrequited feelings.

You were very pretty, he wasn’t blind. He knew it from the moment he saw you that dealing with having you around would be hard for him.

You were also so young and naive, and not to mention, reckless. You were a ticking bomb for him. You _needed_ someone your own age, someone you had more in common with. Someone that could give you want you needed. 

On top of all that, you weren’t his type. You weren’t…

He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath. 

_No. This had nothing to do with Daisy._

Of course he felt bad for making you cry. He wasn’t completely heartless. But what else could he have done in that moment? There was nothing else he could’ve done.

He did what he had to do. He did the right thing.

He hoped things wouldn’t be too awkward.

He didn’t want to make the next six months harder than it needed to be.

As he walked out, he found the loft already dark. He tried to make as little noise as possible as he approached the bed. He was momentarily surprised to see you were still awake. You were staring down at the covers.

He hated this. It hasn’t even been an hour and it was already awkward.

He watched as you flipped around to face the window, the rain still pouring down.

He got under the covers next to you and turned away so his back was facing yours.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's gonna start picking up real fast. Hope you're strapped in. We're gonna go from 0 to 100. I don't want no one complaining about too much sex. I warned you.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strong Language. Another fight.

#  **14**

You can feel him move again. His feet move gently underneath the covers, making you want to fall asleep even more. You didn’t like this awkward tension. Not one bit.

He made you feel small tonight. Exposed in a way you never had felt before. You knew it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t feel the same way, but you felt incredibly led on. You were a little angry, and for the wrong reasons.

You feel him stir again.

“I think it’s a child.” He says. You aren’t sure what to say to his oddly random statement, so you continue to pretend you are asleep, “The person they are trying to save.”

He’s talking about the mission. You quickly wonder if he’s trying to change the subject and that he’s that cold, or if it truly _is_ something on his mind. You won’t lie, the idea of it being a child that had the virus bothered you, too.

“Why do you think that?” Your voice is hoarse and barely above whisper.

“I don’t know. Just based on how I’ve noticed them act whenever a new shipment comes in. I can tell it matters to Ashen and these people involved.” You’re silent as he continues, “If it’s a child, and if he’s been alive this long, it would mean that they have a treatment or something. How is he still alive?” Bucky’s voice is distant. You can tell this question is affecting him.

“We’ll find out.” You say, wanting this conversation to end.

“I need to get in there.” You feel him stir again. He’s on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“That’s not part of the plan.”

“I don’t care. We’ll change it. I need to find out how Silas is connected to this and I need to know if that building is some kind of Hydra headquarters. I need to know what they are doing and there and with who. It could lead us to the ring leader.”

You pause.

“What are you suggesting?” You ask.

He’s quiet for a moment and you know he’s thinking.

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.” He says, “What did he look like, Y/N?”

Doubt fills your belly. You know you should tell him, you know you need to, but part of you still feels like you own the information. It’s yours.

“I can’t.” You squeak out.

“Please.” He says quietly.

You feel tears in your eyes at his plea and you slowly open your eyes.

“Is this not enough for you?” You ask.

“What?”

“You demand and demand information from me, and I always give you what you need, I always try to play by your book, I even went out of my way to tell you how I feel, laying it out on the line for you, my heart, including my most vulnerable side, yet you ask for the one thing that I’m not ready to give.” You tuck the comforter under you chin as you look into the city, “Yet, somehow, it’s the least important in all of this.”  
  
Bucky’s eyes soften as he stares across the floor and into the dining area. He watches as the blue light from the dozing AI reflects off the table.

“How am I supposed to know who I’m after?” He asks.

“What?”

“How am I supposed to know who it is that we need to arrest.”

You find yourself sitting up slowly. Your eyebrows are up in surprise as you turn to look at him. He’s still laying down as you look at him in disbelief.

“We’re not killing him?”

“Of course not.” He says it like your questions was absurd.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s not part of the plan.”  
  
“He killed my parents. He ruined, _literally_ , millions of lives.”  
  
Bucky starts to sit up and turns to face you. Your faces are inches apart.

“We need him. I’m not letting you kill him.”

Heavy tears fill your eyes again and he watches you, an uneasiness in his eyes.

“He’s a murderer.” You spat.

“He’s a liability.” He says sternly.

The air between you two is thick and tense. Your breath escapes you in heavy heaves, the anger overwhelming you.

For a small moment while you are trying to compose yourself, Bucky takes in your pretty face.

For the first time since he’s met you, he wonders what it would be like to kiss you.

His eyes dance over your flushed cheeks and he quickly forces those feelings down, knowing they are nothing but carnal urges. He couldn’t do that to you. Not when all he wanted for the last seventy years was to feel again, but that’s it. Not when he could no longer allow himself to open his heart again.

He couldn’t risk that.

“He’s a goddamn killer. I saw my parent’s brain matter because of that man.” Your words return him to reality and he finds himself quickly looking away and standing up off the side of the bed.

“You act on impulses and emotion. It’s dangerous. Think about what you would be doing if we killed him.” He says, walking across the room.

“I know exactly what I would be doing.”

“He deserves to suffer! Every single one of them! I’d rather see them rot and pay for what they’ve done than just kill him dead in one second.” He snaps.

You let out a sound, in disbelief.  
  
“And then you all say _I’m_ the one after revenge.”

He quickly turns around on his feet.

“Don’t you dare.” His voice is snarl and through heavy tears you see his face turned up into an angry scowl. You know you said something that triggered him, “Don’t you fucking _dare_.”

“What? Did I say something that hurt you?” You ask with a tilt of your head. He squints his eyes at you, finally remembering why he kept you far away, “I’m going to kill him, wether you’d like it or not.”

“He’d kill you first and you know it.” He says.

“Excuse me?”  
  
“You’re weak, you have no proper training. He’s Hydra and you’re just a small girl, Y/N, don’t you get that? You have nothing against him!” You feel insulted at his words and your eyes cast down to the bed. “I don’t think you realize just how powerful Hydra really is.” You stare back up at him to see him looking broken. Good, “You really don’t, do you?” He looks at you in shame and then shakes his head to himself.

He walks over to the closet and kneels down to open the wooden box where you store things of value. You watch as he pulls out a leg strap and then pulls out a black G19. He loads it and then he straps both to his leg.

“You’re right. Let’s go kill him right now. Why waste our time, right?” He’s rambling as you watch him scramble to close the case, “Right, Y/N? Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late.”

You watch him, and you’re now more annoyed with him than you were before. How could he make a joke of something like this?

“You’re crazy.”

He laughs incredulously as he throws his arms up in the air.

“I’m crazy?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the one that wants to do this. You think you can handle Hydra, I wanna see you take them on.”

You watch in disbelief as he runs a hand through his hair.

“How could you make a joke out of this? I can’t believe I even—” you catch your words before you say them. With the look he gives you as he catches his own breath, you know he knows what you were going to say.

“Those people out there are bad people,” he shouts, “They are the worst kind of animals you could ever meet. You want to see what they have the power to do, huh? Just look at me. Take a look at me and you’ll see the aftermath of their work.”His eyes are filled with emotions, “Because of them I didn’t live past twenty-three. I never saw my family again, I never got to have a life, I was tormented in a damn metal chair like some piece of animal, meat. I got my fiancé killed, I never got to get married, have kids, have a life. I never got to have any of that. I was never meant to live in the time I’m living in right now, don’t you get that? And because of _them_ , I am. Because of those goddamn sons of bitches, I killed hundreds of innocent people, including babies. I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine. Things you wouldn’t be able to handle. I can’t die inside because I already have. These are the last moments, and I want to get it right.”

You’re left stunned by this man.

You feel your hands shaking as he walks up to the bed.

“You think I don’t want to go into that building and kill every single man under Hydra’s power? After all that, you really think I don’t want to?” His voice is quieter now, but trembling.

You can feel his breath hitting off your cheek.

“No.” You say.

“Of course I want to kill them, but we can’t be emotional about it. If we are, every single innocent person out there — moms, dads, sons, daughters, babies — could die, and that’s on us.” He takes in the side of your face as he says the next words, “and I won’t let you get in my way.”

He knows they are harsh, but he felt he had several reasons to say them. One of them being that it was true, he wouldn’t let you get in his way, and the other was that had no choice but to keep you at arms length.

You drop your head, “I don’t know why I feel this way.”

“What way?”

You look up and your eyes meet.

“This, here, right now,” His eyes search yours for an explanation, “the way I feel about you. You said all those things about what you went through, but it kills me that you can’t see you deserve happiness. You deserve to heal. None of what happened was your fault.”His eyes drop to the bed and he clenches his jaw, “Why did you react that way when I was playing the song and why did you almost kiss me?” You ask breathlessly.

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, standing abruptly as the side of the bed.

“I was in a trance.”

“You were thinking about her, weren’t you? It had nothing to do with me.” You say with a broken spirit.

He doesn’t respond. He clenches his jaw again.

“I understand now. You loved her, and you still do,” your heart is broken but you know it’s the truth. His eyes remain downcast as yours drift to his lips, “And I love you.”

Quickly his eyes meet yours and you see that same look from earlier today. Fear mixed with pity. Your heart breaks all over again.

“You don’t love me,” he practically scoffs as if it was an insult, “you’re too young to know what love is. This isn’t it.”

You nod, looking away.

“With time, I hope my feelings to help you will go away.” With that, you tuck yourself back under the covers, turning away from from him.

Bucky watches as you unravel, trying to mask your tears into the cotton of the pillow as much as you could.

You never told a man you loved him before, and you never expected the first time to be like this, most of all a broken avenger; _the_ Bucky Barnes, _the_ winter soldier.

Bucky feels sick as he watches you fall apart. He hates himself for what he’s doing to you. He’s not proud of himself for it. You were so young and so different than him. You were also so different than any of the other women he ever crushed on back when he was around your age.

Maybe it was because the times had changed, a lot changes in seventy plus years, but he knew it wasn’t that.

You carried yourself around like you were strong, even though you weren’t. You talked down to him, something he was never used to. You put up a fight and you used vulgar language. He hates himself for not wanting to find out more about you. He was afraid to know who you really were.

A daughter who came from money, he was sure you had it easy. Probably had a lot of boyfriends, too. He was shocked when you had told him you never shared a bed with a boy before. He wondered if you were the type to not spend the night. He wondered if maybe you really did have everything handed to you on a silver platter and it’s why you thought killing the ring leader would be so easy.

He hates your optimism and your unrealistic expectations. But most of all he hates how he needs a friend.

“I—” he starts as he sits down on the bed, “no man hates being told they are loved. I don’t take your words for granted, nor your offer to help. I just don’t want to lead you on,” you sniff, catching on that he was repeating almost similar words from your olive branch a few nights ago, “I’d really like it if we could work together, peacefully. And with good communication.” You sniff again, “i’ve never told anyone this, but I never felt like I was deserving of being an Avenger. Tony was a dumbass for ever considering it.” You can’t help the small chuckle you let out through your tears, “I killed his parents.” The silence that follows is engulfing. You can only imagine his face, hunched over sitting on the side of the bed, “He was a good man. He saved us all.”

Once again that night, you feel your heart break. Bucky was a good man. He was a great man, even. He just showed it in the worst ways. It had taken you weeks, but you were finally beginning to creep your way over his walls.

Weeks ago, you wouldn’t been joyous, but right now you were anything but. Him opening up to you was not helping how you felt for him.

You felt nothing but utter jealousy for the woman than he seemed to never be able to let go of. You hate that you had been right, that he had been thinking of her when he almost kissed you. He didn’t have to tell you for you to know, the look on his face was enough of an answer.

“I have an idea, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He says into the dark. You don’t reply but you don’t have to. He knows you’re listening, “I want your help. At the sex club.”

What?

* * *


End file.
